


you're his hell now

by sojournriss



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Michael, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Michael Langdon Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sojournriss/pseuds/sojournriss
Summary: Basically this was my idea of how Apocalypse was gonna go down, especially since I thought Mallory was an angel/nephilim. Too bad AHS writers don't know good storytelling whoops said it. I'm not a really good writer and took a creative writing course three years ago so bear with me please.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s only been six months since your arrival at Miss Robichaux's Academy and you’ve already shown great power and potential to your coven. Your teachers, like Queenie and Zoe, are impressed with the spells you have already conjured, wanting you to join them and help teach your fellow sisters. Even Supreme Cordelia Goode, the most powerful witch on Earth, beams with light as you gracefully complete each task with ease.

You can feel your powers grow immensely each day, and you discover that you’re pretty good at healing things, like removing a scar or burn from a wounded face or turning a dead cat into an energetic little kitten.

Your fellow sisters, however, don’t approve of the special attention you’re getting from your teachers, especially from Cordelia. You can practically smell their jealousy flow through their veins during our lessons together.

When Zoe and Queenie aren’t looking, bullying you becomes a daily activity for your sisters. Smacking your spell books out of your arms in the hallway, pouring hot sauce in your lavender tea when you’re not looking, calling you names, like “teacher’s pet” or “orphan bitch”.

It never stops, and neither does your anger. It boils your blood and turns your hands into fists of fury.

The worst part of the torment is when they find your sketchbook, filled with different charcoal drawings, some you’ve drawn from sitting out in the forest, taking in nature, and some from dreams you’ve had the nights before.

They’ll grab it from your bed, tucked underneath your arm because you couldn’t wait to draw your dream the morning after. They’ll laugh at it, tell you your dreams are fucked up and that you need a shrink, and eventually use pyrokinesis to burn your pages or just rip them to shreds.

You fix them, of course, because that’s what you do best, you just hope one day they’ll stop before you snap.

_If only they knew who you really were. That would make them stop and beg for mercy._

* * *

 

Prophecy is inevitable. I was always going to win, Miss Supreme.

_You turn around, a figure in a hooded black cloak stands only a couple feet away, surrounded by hellfire. You can’t breathe. You think it’s a man, but you’re not so sure, even as he inches closer to you with each step._

_This makes your head spin more and more, and you close your eyes. You’re definitely going to pass out if you don’t do something. You have to perform a spell, and you have to do it now. But not just a regular witch spell, that wouldn’t be enough take him down._

_The man lifts up his black hood, and what you saw terrified you through your whole core._

_What you thought was a man wasn’t, and instead you saw a face so pale there were cracks embedded into his skin, contrasting with black eyes. A white face demon._

_He speaks again, seeing you struggling to breathe._

You could’ve joined me. This world could’ve been ours for the taking. And you BETRAYED me.

_Inhaling you last breath, as deep as your lungs could take, you open your eyes and scream._

Benedictus per potestatem de caelo supra, ire ad tua inferno!

_He stops, like he hit an invisible wall, and his figure falls to the floor, body melting into the ground._ _You step forward to see what remained and grabbed the black cloak. But what was left wasn’t a body._

_White snakes covered in blood clustered together, hissing at you. You scream like a banshee._

* * *

 

You spring up from your bed, gasping for air. It felt like centuries have passed since you remembered what oxygen was. Looking at the end of your bed, you check to see if there’s a pile of bloody snakes in front of you. Nothing. That was the third time this week you had this nightmare. It keeps on coming back to you, ever since you’ve arrived at the coven.

_But why? Better sketch it out again._

Feeling nothing underneath your arm, you reach out at your bed counter, hoping you left it there last night. Nothing. _Bitches._ You know who exactly has it.

Storming out of your room, you make your way downstairs and into the living area. A group of your bullies are all sitting in a circle, laughing like little school girls talking about boys during recess.

“Give it back,” you demand to the ring leader, Eve. She just gives you a petty smirk.

“Give what back? I’m sorry, I don’t like to be accused of things I’ve never done.”

“Bullshit. I’m sick of this bullying, Eve. Just give me back my sketchbook and no one has to get hurt,” you snarl, your hands now clenched into fists.

All of the girls stand up and start walking around you like a swarm of locust. They all start snickering as they continue their merry go round.

“Get hurt? Please you’re so pathetic, the only thing you can do bitch is turn roadkill back into runts, like yourself,” Eve spits at your feet, knowing exactly what to say to make your blood boil. “Poor orphan girl can’t keep away from her own kind.”

This sets you right over the edge. Your anger and emotions have been bottled up for too long. These girls have harassed you for six months, ever since you’ve arrived at the coven, and it’s time to show them their consequence. With your fists clenched, blood boiled, and veins popped, you’re ready to bring out whatever power could help you teach these girls a lesson. Taking a deep breath in and closing your eyes, you feel something start to form. Something you’ve never felt before but always desired to feel.

_Revenge._

As the girls keep you in their circle, you feel a power consume your body with fire and rage, and push your right hand straight in front of your body, and quickly flick it over your head. When you open your eyes, you see the girls fly across the room, hitting chairs and smashing into the walls.

You fall onto your knees, exhausted from the power that just traveled throughout your body.

_Holy shit that was awesome._

Looking around the room, you notice that the girls are hurt, but probably nothing serious, a couple of bruises at most. Eve is still sitting at corner of the wall, mouth gaped wide open.

“Y-You stay away from me, freak,” Her voice sounded annoyed, but also terrified. “Your sketchbook is on the table, in the lesson room.”

Before you could complete your obnoxious grin, Myrtle Snow, a witch with such gracious style she probably bleeds Versace, storms into the living room. She looks across the room, seeing the girls still struggling to get up.

“Heaven’s bee! What happened here?” She asks with worry. You look over at Eve and shake your head. She gulps but responds to Myrtle.

“S-Sorry, Miss Snow. All of us were messing around with a levitation spell. It won’t happen again,” she sounds defeated. _Good._

“All is forgiven, child. But I do have urgent news for all of you, news that I never thought I would hear in my entire life!” Myrtle looked like she was either going to faint or burst everything into flames.

“What happened, Miss Snow? Did something happen to Miss Cordelia?” You ask nervously, imagining the worst that could happen to your supreme, the one who found you and took you as if you were her own.

“Nothing has happened to her, my sweet sunflower,” Myrtle responds with empathy, but then she inhales deeply and says something that you never thought would happen either. “A young boy, a fellow brother warlock from the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men has passed the Seven Wonders. Once your supreme, our lovely Delia, passes away, he will become the new supreme,” She pauses, filling the room with fear and disgust.

“He will become  _our_ new supreme.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically this was my idea of how Apocalypse was gonna go down, especially since I thought Mallory was an angel/nephilim. Too bad AHS writers don't know good storytelling whoops said it. I'm not a really good writer and took a creative writing course three years ago so bear with me please.

Your fellow sisters couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it.

_This can’t be true. Miss Cordelia hasn’t even been the supreme for that long! This isn’t fair!_

Myrtle brings back you and your sisters to order with a snap of her fingers, filling the room in silence. “Trust me, ladies. I’m as shocked as you all are. But that is witch law, and we must obey it,” she announces, bringing herself to sit on the nearby couch, dramatically resting her arm over her head.

“But Delia’s time isn’t up yet, remember that. The boy, Michael, will be here tonight at Miss. Robichaux's for dinner with some our fellow warlock brothers in celebration,” You could almost hear the bile coming up into Myrtle’s throat.

“So please, even in great disbelief, we must show him respect. Please, be ready in the dining hall by eight. And look your damn best.”

Before she turns to leave the room, she gives me a sly smile and a wink.

_She means wear all black, and it better be in Balenciaga._

* * *

 

 

Lucky for you, you find a perfect black cape dress, with bracelet-length sleeves and a flared-out bottom which stopped right above your knees in your massive closet. The only thing you have to be grateful about your sister witches is the amount of donations their wealthy families have gracefully given to the coven after Cordelia showed us off to the world.

Because of them, you were able to wear Myrtle’s iconic but expensive fashion brands.

The privilege and luxury were nice, but you’d rather be wearing a comfy sweatshirt and a pair of black leggings.

_This supreme better be worth it._ You shake the negative thought out of your head.

_No. He’s not the supreme yet. Not MY supreme._

You open up your makeup drawer and plug in your hair curler.

_What did Myrtle say his name was? Michael, like the archangel! Maybe this boy won’t be so bad after all._

You then recall the times you have walked pass Cordelia’s office and hear Myrtle and her talk about how danger is upon us, that “something is coming.”

_Maybe Michael is the one to save us from whatever evil they’ve talked about_.

After putting on light makeup and curling your hair, you head downstairs and into the dining hall, joining your sisters at the long, silver dining table. They smirk at you and giggle at each other. Eve, especially, wearing her black Gucci mini dress and Tiffany apple necklace.

You were thinking of muttering _perpetuum clausis_ to stop them from smiling until you saw Myrtle Snow walk into the room, also wearing black Balenciaga, but in a long and exquisite gown. _God, her pinky toe probably has more class than my entire body!_

Following her were three head warlocks and instructors at Hawthorne, all dressed up in basic black suits and leather shoes, except for Behold Chablis, wearing a maroon satin turban and an emerald sun brooch.

_Wow, another icon living._

You’ve only met the warlocks a couple of times, usually when they would stop by to visit Miss Robichaux's on occasion, to ponder upon you and your sisters’ growth in your powers. Grand Chancellor Ariel and Baldwin always seemed to reek of jealousy whenever you tested out your abilities in front of them but Behold and John Henry always smiled whenever you successfully completed a spell, gleaming with pride for their fellow sister.

And speaking of which, _where was John Henry?_

“Welcome back to Robichaux's, gentlemen. Please, take a seat,” Myrtle insisted, gesturing her hand to the chairs across from you and your sisters. Just as Baldwin takes his seat, one of your sisters burst out, “So where is he, huh? Our new supreme?”

You roll your eyes with annoyance, and then turn to Ariel and ask the real question, “Where’s Cordelia?” “Our Delia fell ill this afternoon and won’t be joining us, sadly,” Myrtle sighed, almost looking lost without her fellow companion.

“Don’t worry, sisters! Michael, our Alpha, will be dining with us momentarily. He just needed to take care of some matters at hand,” Ariel obliged to you, following with what seemed like an evil grin.

Shortly after, there was movement at the dining room’s entrance, and you see a man, standing there.

A man with strawberry blonde hair.

And bright, blue eyes.

Dressed in a black suit but with a blood red tie, a golden ring of a snake woven into it.

Everybody looked at him, but he was only fixated on you.

And you were fixated on him. Like a moth drawn to the flame, knowing better.

And you then saw through his facade. Through his devilish smile.

You saw it only for a second, like a flickered light, but you knew what you saw.

_The white face demon._

From your nightmares.

_You could’ve joined me._

You break eye contact with him with a sudden “Excuse me,” bouncing from your chair and exiting the dinner room in one swift motion.

You pace down the hallway far enough, finding a vacant room. You slam the door shut, slouching down to the wooden floor. Come on, now. Breathe. Just breathe. Your lungs couldn’t intake enough air for you to think straight, just like your nightmare.

_That’s impossible._ Tears start to pour out of you, feeling lost and betrayed.

_How could Cordelia, your supreme, the leader of your coven, allow this man-_

No. How could she allow this demon to perform the Seven Wonders? How come you saw this and no one else did? Do the warlocks even know?

There had to be something else to it. To _him._

You’ve never felt such a dark energy like that before, like he wore the perfume of death.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door behind you. Still breathing heavy, you stand back up and open the door.

To your surprise, Cordelia gives you a grin stretching from ear to ear, and you can’t help but give it back. You notice she’s supporting some of her body weight on a cane.

“Miss Cordelia, are you alright? The cane-” she raises her hand to interrupt you.

“I’m fine, dear. I just felt winded after a day like this.” She takes your face in both hands, wiping the tears from your face and forcing you to look into her eyes. “Breathe, my child. Just like before, yes?”

You remember back to when you first met Cordelia, how she would do this to you before, how she saved you from that horrible foster home, how she found you crying in a corner after some of the others called you names and ripped up your drawings.

The bullying and the tears stayed the same, but so did Cordelia.

You finally calmed down and assured her that you were fine.

“Thank you, Miss Cordelia. I feel so much better now.”

“Good. I take it you met Michael. He’s… interesting,” Cordelia sighs, frowning at herself.

“Nevertheless, he will be our Supreme, and that time will come. Just not today,” She assures you, smiling again.

“Now, shall we join the rest for dinner?”

You nod and take a hold onto her arm as you both start walking down the hallway, smiling at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a THOUSAND APOLOGIES for this hot mess, just wanted to write, and don't worry, there will be more interaction between Michael and the reader. Also will kinda have a Reylo feel in the next chapter, like a force bond. (-:  
> and if you're actually reading this, thank you so much!!!  
> follow me on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically this was my idea of how Apocalypse was gonna go down, especially since I thought Mallory was an angel/nephilim. Too bad AHS writers don't know good storytelling whoops said it. I'm not a really good writer and took a creative writing course three years ago so bear with me please.

As you both enter the dining room, everybody stands up for Cordelia, showering her with compliments and smiles.

You, on the other hand, are left in her shadow, nobody paying attention to you. Nobody probably even noticed you rushing out of the room.

Nobody except for Michael.

As you let go of Cordelia and head back to your seat, you turn and look at him, and surprised to see him staring back at you.

_The boy wonder._

He tilts his head to the side, like a curious owl, keeping up his gaze at you. It’s like this game you’re both playing subconsciously with each other, and whoever can figure out the other first wins.

You smirk back at him as you sit down, across the table from him.

I already got you figured out boy, and you’re not going to like what’s in store.

Almost as if he read your mind, he breaks eye contact with you.

Score one for me.

Michael turns to Cordelia, reciprocating your smirk now. “Ah, Cordelia! So nice of you to join us, dinner was just about to be served,” he boasts charismatically, lifting up his wine glass. Ariel joins him with his cup.

“To our Supreme, Miss Cordelia Goode! Long may she reign,” he applauds, waiting for everybody else to join in. Everybody clinks their glasses full of expensive merlots and take their first sips.

As you take yours, you and Michael make eye contact again.

Looking deep into his blue eyes, you almost feel hypnotized, that anything he command you to do you’d obey his orders, no matter what the consequences were.

And you couldn’t even begin to talk his strawberry blonde hair. The only thing you could possibly compare it to would be the goddamn sun.

_Except you are the brightest star._

Still staring into his irises, filled with ocean water, you felt a force silence the air around you, slowing down everybody and every movement around you.

You could make out this deep, husky voice only you could hear, and it made your entire spine shiver.

_Oh, don’t worry, baby. I'll figure you out soon enough._

* * *

 

Another bonus with having spoiled brats for coven sisters was having the best personal chefs around the globe.

Your foster home chef would have a heart attack if he saw how much food I was being fed, let alone how fabulous it all was.

Throughout dinner, however, your sisters wouldn’t stop shoving questions down Michael’s throat. He barely had time to swallow a spoonful before another question was asked, and you actually felt bad for this sinister kid.

And not to mention how flirty they were with him. Especially Eve.

“So, Michael,” she squeaks our while gliding her finger around her wine glass, “When did you realize you had powers? Oh wait, or when did you realize you were powerful enough to become the _Alpha_? Or wait-”

You can tell Michael is annoyed with her rambled questions but surprises you he never tells her or the others to shut up. Almost as if the devil himself taught him a thing or two about manners.

_Well, your father didn’t, so might as well help this poor boy out._

You turn to the side and tilt your head, so Eve couldn’t see what you were about to do. You flick a finger up and Eve’s merlot spills all over her dress, her cheeks filled with embarrassment, turning red almost as deep as your wine.

You can’t help yourself but to let out a small giggle.

Looking across the table, you notice Michael doing the same, doing a weaker job at hiding it, holding his napkin over his mouth so no one can see him laughing.

You feel that unmistakable force again, blocking everybody around you, but this time you notice you can feel Michael looking at you, but this time with sympathy and... kindness.

_Nice one. And thank you._

You nod your head at him. The bond breaks and everything turns back to normal.

_What is this? Who are you really, Michael?_

He doesn’t seem to react to your thought, especially now since everybody stares at Cordelia, slowing standing up from her seat.

“Everyone, thank you all for a lovely dinner. It was truly a treat seeing brothers and sisters to be together in the same room. It has been sometime, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, even not feeling my best self,” she assures you all while resting a hand on her stomach.

You start to applaud her, and everybody else joins in before she sits back down.

“Thank you, Cordelia, that was quite a lovely thought. Now, I believe our dear Michael has a request to ask his sisters,” Ariel declares and nods to Michael, giving him the approval to speak. Michael stands and buttons together his jacket before speaking.

“Sisters, thank you so much for having me this evening. I could only assume what horror and sorrow you must’ve felt when you heard the news about a _male_ supreme,” Michael assures the table, making eye contact with your sisters and not you.

_They all seem pretty excited now since they found out you’re hot as Hell._

You would’ve slapped your head for thinking such a thought if you weren’t in public.

“I know that even with one lovely dinner that I wouldn’t be able to gain my sisters trust, so I would like to get to know all of you better, like one-on-one interviews here, at your academy. I want you to trust me and feel comfortable with me as your new supreme. Not to mention I want to know more about Miss. Robichaux’s since I have haven’t been a warlock long enough to know the history here!”

_Yeah wait, I overheard Baldwin busting to Myrtle about how he was only at Hawthorne for a month. I almost got you now._

Michael passes over you and looks at Cordelia,

“I mean if that’s alright with you, Miss Cordelia,” he asks, almost pouting his lips.

She nods to him, “Of course, Michael. What a lovely gesture to show your sisters how dedicated you will be to our coven.”

“Wonderful! Michael will be here at noon sharp tomorrow. Thank you, Cordelia, and thank you sisters!” Ariel seems to be happier about these interviews than Michael is.

* * *

 

As everyone starts to head out of this dining hall, you catch up with hot gossip with Behold, spilling tea on what happened this morning with your sisters.

“Oh, my goodness, girl! You made them all fly? Next time you think about pulling another trick like that again please call me before, so I can bring my popcorn and wine and call me Olivia Pope!” He belts out, both of you dying of laughter.

“Almost not to mention how spicy you look today, damn zista! Didn’t know there was a Victoria Secret’s model convention in town.” You slap his arm, but you can’t help but give him a smile.

“Jeez, thanks Behold. I need that after these past couple days,” you tell him, a true friend. _Speaking of warlock friends..._

 _“_ Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Where’s John Henry? I felt like he should’ve been at dinner tonight.”

Before Behold could respond, Michael comes up to the both of you and turns to him.

“Behold, do you mind if you can give us some time alone, please?” He does his head tilt again, and it doesn’t look he’s going to take no for an answer.

Behold gulps, “O-of course, Michael. I’ll help Baldwin sneak out some wine bottles. If you don’t mind, doll face,” he says winking at you.

You give him a wink back before he and the others head out of the dining room.

Michael turns to face you, hands behind his back. “I want to apologize,” he declares with a sincere voice.

You furrow your brows, wondering what he means.

“I think I scared you when I first walked in, you ran off so fast that I didn’t know what I did to offend you. But it must’ve been something, so I’m sorry,” he says giving you a small grin, making him look like a child.

_Okay he needs to stop being cute._

You know better, and you remember why you ran off in the first place.

_The white face demon._

You take a step towards him, but snap your fingers quickly, transporting yourself right behind him, pressing your body against the wall.

You tap on his shoulder and he turns to face you, almost startled but impressed.

Looking up at his chiseled jaw, you say, “I accept your apology, Michael. Even though I think you know why I ran away.”

As you turn to walk away, hoping to get away from him and his sinful aura, his arm stops you in your tracks, making you face him with no other choice.

Michael is closer to you now, your lips only an inch away from his.

He lowers his head, so your face is paralleled with his.

His blue eyes pour into yours, like he’s wants you to drown in them.

His nose barely grazing yours.

His mouth hovering over yours.

His breathing becomes heavier, but so does yours.

“Listen,” he growls, “I don’t know who you are or what you know about me. But whatever you saw when I walked in, you can forget about it. Probably conducted way too many witch spells for one day.”

_He’s trying to scare you, but he’s already done that. Get the upper hand. Now._

Straightening out your back to make you look taller, you look at Michael’s lips and bite yours, hard.

_Damn he has nice lips too._

He stares right at them, almost releasing a gasp.

Having him unfocused, you grab his waist with your leg, spin you both around, and hold down his arms so he can’t go anywhere.

His jaw is clenched, frustration fills his entire face.

_Shouldn’t have gotten so close, boy wonder._

“Okay, now _you_ listen,” you growl back, pressing your body weight into him, hopefully making a dent in the wall, “I know enough about you to know that you’re no good for this coven. Whatever you are, it isn’t a warlock, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to stop you.”

You squeeze your leg more, tightening your grip on him, pressing your bodies closer together which almost seemed impossible at this point. His eyes are filled with fear now, like you just opened up his Pandora box. But also something else, almost like he wanted to be closer to you. Lust, perhaps?

_What other secrets are you hiding, Michael? Are they just like mine?_

With one swift motion, you release him from your tight hold and walk away.

Before you turn around, you glance over your shoulder to him and sweetly say, “I’ll see you tomorrow for our little interview,” and give him a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all liked that Reylo tease, will try to write Chapter Four as soon as I can, I'm also working on my Jim Mason fic, but since I'm on winter break I should have time to. Can't wait to write the interview!! (-;  
> if you're actually reading this, thank you so much!! 
> 
> follow me on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”  
> \- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

_ You step forward to see what remained and grabbed the black cloak. But what was left wasn’t a body. _

_ White snakes covered in blood clustered together, hissing at you. You scream like a banshee. _

_ When you stop, you notice the snakes slithering pass you, not giving you or your scream any attention. And then you hear the voice of the white face demon, but this time he sounds lost and scared, asking for guidance.  _

Please, father! Open my eyes!

_ Glancing over your shoulder, you notice a man with long hair kneeling with his eyes closed in some kind of circle, clearly made from blood _ . 

_ He’s naked and covered in blood, and it must be his own when you notice the long cuts on his arms.  _

_ His hair was blonde, but had hints of strawberry in it.  _

_ Like…  _ Michael. 

_ The man starts moving his hands all over himself,, seductively coating his body with his own blood. You’re too frightened to turn your body completely around to face him, still glancing over your shoulder.  _

_ He takes a hand and places it on his red neck, slowly lowering it down his body.  _

_ He finally opens his eyes, but this time, cerulean pools weren’t staring at you, but black holes. _

_ He speaks again, but even his voice was different. It sounded... _ demonic.

Ave Satanas.

And you wake up.

Sweat sticks to your forehead and neck, your breaths are staggered, and your entire core is shocked. 

You figured him out. 

Michael Langdon wasn’t a wizard, you already knew that. 

You had your theory about him, maybe he was a disowned demon, a servant to the devil himself who pissed him off just too many times. 

Maybe he was kicked out of Hell, thinking that corrupting the world of witches and warlocks that his master could see his loyalty and bring him back down into the underworld. 

But you were  _ dead  _ wrong. 

Michael wasn’t just some pathetic servant of Satan, but his concubine. 

His half-mortal son, with extraordinary abilities, dark, but powerful enough to disguise them as warlock magic.

Michael Langdon was the  _ Antichrist _ . 

 

* * *

You had to stop him, from being the next supreme and ending the world. 

_ But how?  _

Michael has hidden his demonic powers so easily that he made the warlocks believe he was the next supreme, the  _ Alpha _ . 

He even tricked Miss Cordelia, the most powerful witch on Earth. 

Tricked them in believing that he was something that he was not.

_ Sounds familiar?  _ You shake the thought.

_ No, it’s not the same.  _

The purpose of your powers was to use them for good, or at least you try, thinking about Eve and the bullies flying across the room like frisbees thanks to you. 

You and Michael are total opposites, but you can’t help but call yourself a hypocrite.

_ I have to know what he’s planning on doing next. _

Your interview with him is today, and you’ve already made an impression on him.

You had to distract him, bring him to his weakest point and get inside his head. 

And there was only one way you knew how to get what you wanted from a man. 

_ Seduction.  _

 

* * *

__

  
  


During breakfast, you tell your sisters you want to go last for the interviews, insisting them to go before you so they can tell you  _ all  _ about theirs.

Eve snorts at your request, “And why would any of us tell you about our private talks with Michael? He’s trying to get to know all of us individually, like, this isn’t kindergarten roundup.”

_ I need intel, but this is the only way I’m gonna get it. _

You bring your elbows to the table and put your head on top of your hands, batting your eyes at her.

“Well, Eve, didn’t you notice?” you ask perkily, bile slowly rises in your throat. “The way Michael was looking at you during dinner, such hungry eyes! Looked like he only had one meal he wanted to feast on!”

Eve blushes and looks at her comrades, all of them nodding their heads in agreement. 

“Well, I never took you as a hot gossip. I love it! And, I guess we should step a foot together in the right direction,” she looks at you, this time being sincere and takes your hand. 

Before you can pull back in disgust, she says something you’d thought you would hear when the dodo birds came back from extinction.

“I’m sorry for harassing you. We all are. You were the new girl, and it was the only fun we’ve had in a long time. But it was cruel, and it won’t happen again.” 

She let’s go of your hand and extends her pinky finger out. You hesitate towards it. 

_ Why a sudden change of heart? _

But then you realize you don’t care, because now you won’t have any enemies in the coven. 

Well, except for Michael.

You take her pinky with yours. “Promise?” you ask.

“Promise,” she repeats back.

 

* * *

 

Eve and the girls kept the promise. After each interview, your sisters would come into your room while you were getting ready and tell you all about it. 

Sadly, they all sounded the same, getting no further information on Michael than what you already knew: 

“He was so kind! He asked me where I was born, when I came to Miss. Robichaux’s, what my special ability was. His voice was so husky and dreamy, and oh, don’t get me started on his eyes!”

Eve went into even more detail, definitely more than what you bargained for. 

“When he asked me if I could perform pyrokinesis, he stuck his tongue out and slowly licked his lips.

I wanted him to break my neck and hide my body right then and there!”

_ Jesus Christ that was graphic. TMI Eve! _

When the last sister left your room, you took one last long look at yourself in the body mirror. 

You were wearing a black and lacy off the shoulder dress, the length barely covering your upper thighs, black ankle high leather boots, and a gold leaf crown matching with gold sun earrings. 

Your black eyeliner, wavy hair, and plump lips made quite a bold statement.

_ Maybe I should dress like this more often. _

Before you leave your room, you grab your last accessory: your father’s cross necklace. 

You haven’t worn it in a year, for reasons and memories you didn’t want to remember. 

It was broken, but you fixed it, because that’s what you do best. 

_ You could use a little faith, especially now. _

You put the necklace around your neck, placing your finger on the symbol. 

It felt right wearing it. 

You take a deep breath in and make your way into the hallway. 

_ Show time. _

 

* * *

__

 

Michael has been conducting interviews in Cordelia’s office since noon. You arrive at around three and knock on the door. 

_ He better be exhausted. _

You wait about ten seconds. No answer. 

Before you could knock again, you hear him. 

“Come in,” his voice still sounded husky, but you could tell he was tired of repeating that line each time a witch knocked. 

Taking a huge gulp, you open the door and enter the room.

Michael sat behind Cordelia’s desk, looking down at a bunch of files. 

Probably a bunch of paperwork on you and your sisters. Background checks, supernatural incidents with the law, and other information Cordelia kept of all of you. 

You wonder what’s in yours. 

_ Probably not a whole lot. _

You’ve already made your way across the room and behind the chair in front of the desk before Michael even looks up. 

And when he does, he reacts with a startled look in his eyes and curses under his breath.

_ Is the Antichrist afraid of me? Over a few exchanged words? _

You let out a little giggle.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day,” he apologizes, and you feel kind of bad for him. 

His eyes flutter with exhaustion and his posture was poor, begging for some rest. He extends a hand in front of you. “Please, take a seat.”

“That’s okay, I prefer standing, if you don’t mind,” you assure him. 

He hesitates for a second, but then nods his head. 

_ Got the upper hand already. _

“Well, just to let you know, I usually look over each sister’s file to extract some basic information before I can ask more personal and present questions, like ‘what’s your favorite thing about Robichaux’s?’ or ‘do you have a special ability yet?’ You know, things like that,” Michael explains to you, flipping through a bile of manila folders. 

_ He’s trying to find mine. _

After a few moments of searching, he pulls out a file so thin it seemed to only hold one piece of paper in it. 

“However, when I pulled up yours, I didn’t get much out of it, just this,” Michael says and presents you the open file. 

The only thing in it was a document from your foster home, explaining your departure from them, along with a picture of you from almost a year ago when you first arrived, attached with a paperclip.

The guardian signature line had  _ Ms. Cordelia Goode  _ written on it.

“Now, according to this document, you were only at this foster home for about four months before Miss Cordelia took you to Miss. Robichaux’s,” Michael closes the file and puts it back in the pile with the rest.

“Four months isn’t a very long time. So where were you before then?” he asks, curiosity consumes his eyes, which are fixated on yours. 

You finally look down and you notice your hands have grabbed onto the chair in front of you. 

Letting go, you notice nail marks embedded into the wood. 

The air and minimal sound around you vanishes, and you feel that familiar force surrounding you again. 

You look up at Michael, his head is tilted and speaks without moving his lips.

_ Who are you? _

“Stop,” you command him. He had to be doing this. “STOP!” 

The bond breaks and leaves you both breathless. 

_ No, I’m not getting into this now. I’m on a mission. _

Straightening your back and taking in a big breath, you remember what you came here to do. 

_ It’s his interview now. _

You give him a sly smile. “Enough about me, Michael, please. Let’s talk about you,” you insist while you make your way around the chair and towards him, swaying your hips purposely to get his attention. 

You do, his eyes flutter even more, and it doesn’t look like it’s from exhaustion. 

“I want to know who  _ you  _ are,” you lick your lips, just how Eve told you he did, and Michael’s lips slightly part open as he swings his chair to face you. 

Before he could say anything or tell you to stop, you take one more step towards him and swing your other leg around, taking a seat on his lap. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you adjust yourself so you can sit comfortably on top of him, positioning yourself a little bit higher so you can look down on him. 

_ Like Heaven looking down on Hell. _

With your this position, you’re now had control, and Michael didn’t seem to oppose. His breathing was so heavy you could feel his chest cavity move you up and down.

His eyes were wide awake now, pools of sapphire and wonder traveling down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch, every curve. 

You should give him a quiz later. 

_ Now that sounds like fun, but remember the plan. _

His hands settled on your hip and the small part on your lower back, bringing his eyes back to yours. You glance down at his lips, parted and begging you to take a bite. 

_ How tempting. _

Michael looked like he was going to ask you something, but before he could, you raise your hand to stop him.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper in his ear. 

To your surprise, he complies and folds them shut.

_ Damn, did I just make the Antichrist my sub? _

Using this to your advantage, you trail your fingers around his face, starting from his temple, to his cheek, then to his lips. 

His body shivers in response, still keeping his lips parted.

You remove your fingers, noticing Michael leaning into your touch, but retreats quickly, hoping you didn’t notice.

_ Oh baby, I did. _

You take your fingers and move from his chin down his jaw and to his neck. 

Michael lifts up his head, exposing his neck even more to you. 

You find yourself tracing his Adam’s apple, feeling how deep his inhales were. 

It seemed like forever since you took your last breath yourself, so you inhale through your nose, and all you could smell was him. 

His neck smelled like cinnamon and wild orange, and you knew it would be a sin not to take a bite. 

As you press your lips on his neck right below his jaw, you hear a gasp depart from Michael’s lips. You wrap your arm around his neck as you deepen your kiss, allowing your tongue to add pressure on his hot skin. 

Michael grips your hips harder, limiting any possible space between you two. 

_ God, this shouldn’t feel so good.  _

But it did feel that good. 

Michael Langdon was the ultimate sin. 

You start to slowly move your hips back and forth on him, and he moans into your ear. 

_ This has gone too long. It’s now or never. _

Inhaling, you whisper  _ esse adhuc sub me _ , and latch onto his neck one more time, with teeth this time. 

You expected a wince or some sign or retaliation from him, but it was the complete opposite. 

Michael moans again in your ear, louder this time, and you can’t help but purr into his flesh. 

You feel so good, but horrible at the same time. Michael might be the spawn of Satan, but you felt such a strong connection with him, in this moment, like you two were a puzzle, figuring out which pieces fit well together. 

You had to warn him, he had to understand.

_ A strong connection.  _

Using any power you had left, you try to form that bond with him, and you do. 

You feel that same force, and you feel his thoughts, filled with lust and ecstasy.

_ I’m so sorry, Michael. This is for the coven.  _

Before he can lower his hands pass your hips, you let go of his sensitive skin, and the spell works it’s magic. 

You look up and Michael is stunned that you stop, and tries to bring you back to him. 

He fails, for your spell won’t let him move. 

Or speak. 

He is bent to your will. 

“Michael, I have to know. I have to know if I’m right,” you assure him while he thrashes against your power, but it’s no use. 

You raise a hand to his face, pressing your fingertips to his cheek. 

Feeling the energy penetrate into his skin, you start to uncover his true form. 

His soft skin begins to peel away like snake skin, his blue eyes start to grow dark like moonlight. And you see what’s left. 

You see what you’ve seen before. 

White, cracked skin with black holes for eyes. 

_ The white face demon. _

_ You were right. _

You remove your hand and his face goes back to normal. 

Looking into his eyes, all you see is terror. 

Michael shakes under your touch, and there’s something off about it. 

The Antichrist is supposed to bring the end times, the Armageddon. 

He’s supposed to cover the world in his flames, to start the apocalypse. 

And yet, you see a frightened boy, scared of an angel’s touch.

“What happened to you, Michael?” you ask him, and you know he can sense the tenderness and care in your voice. 

As you raise your hand once more, he flinches, scared of what you might see. 

“Please, Michael. Let me see, maybe I can help you,” you assure him once more, bearing your soul into his eyes. 

You feel the bond come back, but it’s not because of your doing. 

Your spell must be wearing off on him, but he’s still allowing this to happen.

_ I won’t hurt you. Please. _

Michael pauses, but slowly nods. 

_ I believe you.  _

You take your hand and press it on his forehead. He grabs your other hand and holds it to his chest, feeling his heavy breaths once more. 

You twist your hand once and you’re in.

 

* * *

 

_ A woman bleeds out in a dark living room, surrounded by helpful spirits. She has given birth, but she won’t make it through the night. Her hair is strawberry blonde too. _

 

_ Spirits whisper to a boy trying to sleep. They tell him who his father is. _

 

_ A man tends to the boy, cares for him, until he does an evil deed. First bodies, then flames, then nothing. The man didn’t care for the boy anymore. _

 

_ The woman covered in blood is back, and with a knife this time. She wants to kill the boy. Before she strikes, the flames come back, but her body is still there. _

 

_ People in black hoods tell the boy he’s special, that he’s the one they’ve been waiting for. He eats a heart for them, and is reunited with his true father.  _

 

_ He leaves with one of the black hoods, a nice lady. She feeds him well and is kind. But no one is kind to her. This makes the boy angry. He’s afraid they’ll take him away from her.  _

 

_ The boy must honor the lady and his father. He tries, but he fails. He is lost, and he needs help. _

 

* * *

__

 

You quickly release your hand from Michael’s face and fall backwards, hitting the floor with a loud thump. 

You try to catch your breath as he does the same. 

You just looked into the memories of the Antichrist, into his personal thoughts and feelings, into his traumatic past experiences.

You feel disgusted with yourself, like you just opened his diary and wanted to read it out loud to the world and use to against him. 

This was wrong.

You look up at Michael, expecting to see anger and wrath in front of you. But you see the complete opposite. 

His face is shattered, broken with emotion, but it’s not for himself. 

It’s for  _ you.  _ He sheds a tear to prove it.

He extends a hand to you, to help you up. 

But you push yourself back with your feet, shaking your head. 

“I’m so sorry, Michael,” you cry out, shedding a tear before snapping your fingers and vanishing from Cordelia’s office. 

You teleported yourself back into your room, laying in your bed, crying out into your pillows.

_ What have I done?  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys, i had a lot of fun writing this chapter! (-:  
> Also if you were wondering, the spell the reader uses on Michael translates to “be still under me” in Latin  
> my twitter is @cettereine and tumblr is @unepatronne (-:


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She was looking at orange trees; kisses on lips that are to die.”  
> -Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room

Hours later, you wake up to the sound of Eve’s voice.

“Hey girl, get up,” she says shaking your should.

You lift your head up and look at her with delirious eyes. “Are you okay? Looks like you’ve been crying.”

You look down and notice your pillows were stained with dried up tears. 

“Yeah, I had a bad migraine,” you lie.

_ You deserved those tears, hypocrite. _

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry. Well, Myrtle is taking some of the girls and I out clubbing if you want to join us. But if you still don’t feel good, I totally understand.” 

She grabs your hand, no hatred or jealousy in her eyes at all, only sympathy.

“Yeah, I’ll take a rain check for tonight, but thanks for the offer, Eve,” you squeeze her hand back and give her a smile.

“Okay, well you won’t be alone. Cordelia is also staying in, I don’t think she was feeling good today either,” Eve assures you before she leaves your room to get ready for the night.

You sleep for a couple more hours, still in your dress from early, which wasn’t the most comfortable outfit to sleep in. 

When you wake up, you notice the sun is gone and the sky is jet black, only stars giving it a luminous touch.

You leave your room to head to the kitchen, but then notice you weren’t hungry for dinner. 

Instead, you grab an opened bottle of Cakebread Cabernet and pour yourself a healthy amount in your wine glass.

_ You don’t deserve the best, but it’s the only thing Myrtle buys. _

Entering the living room, you light the fireplace and slump onto the couch in front of it. You take big gulps of the red wine, refilling it with a flick of your wrist when you reached the bottom. 

After a few flicks, you could feel the alcohol flow through your blood and into your head, making you loose and open.

_ Behold would be proud of me. _

But you weren’t proud of yourself, not after what you did today, what you did to  _ him _ .

You were supposed to figure out if your dreams were correct about Michael, and what he planned to do next. 

What was his goal after becoming supreme, but you found nothing but pain and fear from past memories. 

He was a man with a conflicted mind and no plan for himself and what he wanted.

Even with no soul, Michael was a lost one.

Everybody in his life told him what to do and who to become.

_ The man who abandoned him, his true father, the nice lady, the warlocks. _

Each time he let somebody down, he felt helpless and scared, trying so hard to figure out what he could actually become, on his own terms.

Tears start to fall from your face once more. You close your eyes, reimagining your own painful memories.

_ Michael, I know how you feel. _

The familiar energy comes back, surrounding you in its grasp, blocking any movement or sound around you.

Opening your eyes, you see Michael, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. 

He looks like he’s been crying too, and you could hardest bear it.

_ It’s your fault. _

You look away from his wet blue eyes and grab your glass of wine, filling it for the fifth time. 

Before you could slam it down your throat, Michael grabs your wrist with one hand and the wine glass with the other, placing it on the coffee table in front of you two.

“You’re not really here, are you?” you ask him, your voice was so hoarse it sounded like you smoke a pack of cigarettes a day.

“No, I’m not. But I can see you, and you can see me,” he responds. “And I can feel you and I can feel what you’re doing.”

He looks down at the glass again. “Why are you doing this?”

You dodge his question and reach for your wine, but he’s quick enough and grabs both of your shoulders, holding you back. 

“Please, stop, please,” he begs. 

You look at him, but your vision starts to blur.

“I want to drink myself to death.” you slur out. 

“Never say that!” he yells, letting go of one shoulder and holding your cheek up to focus on him better. He closed his eyes, holding you in place.

A vision comes to you, one you didn’t notice before.

 

_ An old woman, she tried to care for the boy. But he disappointed her too many times, the worst one of them all. The boy found her sleeping, pills and whiskey surrounding her body. She never woke up, and the boy never forgave her.  _

 

Almost as if he sobered you up with in touch, you snap out of your drunken daze, and fall into Michael’s arms. He embraces you, holding you tightly. Tears start to leave your eyes, swelling your cheeks once more.

“I-I’m sorry, Michael,” your voice comes out only in whimpers. “I-I thought you were all powerful and evil, that you wanted to destroy us. But that wasn’t you at all.”

He pushes you back to face him, his head doing that special tilt.

“That’s what people want you to do, to become. The man to bring Armageddon. B-But that’s not you. You’re scared, lost, and I saw that in your memories. So personal and painful. I-I shouldn’t have done that to you, it felt so wrong,” you sob, disgusted by yourself, wrapping your arms around you.

Michael lets you go, shaking his head.

“No, I wanted you to see them. And you did what you thought what was right, to protect your coven. I forgive you,” he insists, giving you a smile.

But you’re confused and mad, shaking your head this time. “Why don’t you hate me? I saw things I shouldn’t have, I opened up your Pandora box. Please, say it. Tell me what I am. I deserve it.”

You expect an insult, and a good one, but what Michael says shocks you, because you’ve heard it before, from yourself.

“You’re a hypocrite. But,” he pauses, making sure you were looking at him. You were, terrified, but also curious.”

“I saw something too,” Michael uncovers. 

You look down, and you notice his hand is reached out in front of him, begging to be grabbed. 

“Now I want to know if I’m right,” he insists, inching his face closer to you. 

His face, his skin, his lips, you wanted to be absorbed in them all. Smelling oranges and kissing cherries, that’s all you wanted, all you wanted from him.

But you had to hold his hand first.

You reach out and touch his fingertips with yours.

The world around you dissolves, and you go back to a place you wish you hadn’t.

 

* * *

_ A father was so proud to call the girl his daughter. Daddy’s little angel. He would tell everybody at church that his little girl would bring so much joy into the world, to the people. She didn’t know what he meant by that. _

 

_ The girl would ask her father where mommy went, why she didn’t want to see her. He told her she was where she needed to be: up above, looking over her and others like her, protecting them from evil. _

 

_ The girl also had white wings. They were small, but they were there, sprouting out of her back like flowers blooming for spring. Her father told her if she stayed good, she could keep her wings and watch them grow. _

 

_ The girl would pick up the dead snakes her cat would kill in the backyard where she would play. First still, then slither in her hand. The girl screamed and told her father. He just laughed. _

 

_ As the girl got older, she picked up less snakes and went to more parties. She met a cute girl at one, Lily. They hit it off, they got close, they kissed. _

 

_ Someone took a picture of the two kissing, and word went around the small town. Her father found out, and was disgusted with her. He told her to get out, that she wasn’t his little girl anymore. That his daughter died along with the snakes. _

 

_ The girl walked and walked in the streets, filthy and hungry. Someone found her and took her in. No one liked her there. She prayed for her mother to come grab her, to take her away. She stopped praying after a while. She stopped believing. _

 

* * *

 

Just like before, you thrashed your body backwards, thankfully the end of the couch caught your fall.

Your breathing is worse this time. It felt like you were hyperventilating. 

Michael reaches out to you, taking your hands into his.

“Hey, hey! Look at me. You’re safe, you’re safe,” he sweared to you, squeezing your hands so you could focus on him. “It’s alright, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

Your breaths start to slow down, everything starts to clear up. And you see him, smiling at you.

_ She was looking at orange trees; kisses on lips that are to die. _

Michael saw your worst parts, memories you wanted to keep hidden. 

You’ve never shared them to anyone before, not even your supreme. 

And he was still there, waiting for you.

_ He understands me. He wants to be better.  _

Before you could bring yourself to him, collide with his body and spirit, take in every touch, every smell of him, there’s a scream that makes you both turn.

_ “STOP!”  _ Cordelia stands in the entryway of the living room, extending a hand out to you both.

Or just you, because you turn back to face Michael, but he was gone, disappeared into thin air.

_ No, please. Come back. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Sorry this was so short, I felt that chapter four was really long so I wanted to even it out. Comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My soul is a blackened sea, that set itself on fire.”  
> Lillith Regina, Dark Waters

You look up at Cordelia, who was making her way towards you now. “M-Miss Cordelia, I-I can explain everyth-,” you start to fumble out, tripping over you words. She raises her hand to stop you.

“I don’t want to know why Michael was here, so I will not ask. But you must stay away from him,” she persists, brows furrows and demeanor serious. 

_ Does she know what you know? _

“Michael is the danger I’ve seen in my visions, the bringer of end times. I know you’ve eavesdrop on me telling Myrtle about them,” she explains to you. You turn away, face bright red with embarrassment. “Madison Montgomery and Behold recently have returned from Michael’s childhood home, and they’ve confirmed with me that he is the  _ Antichrist _ . He is not only a danger to this coven, but a danger to humanity.” 

You turn back to face her again, acting surprised. 

_ Madison Montgomery, the witch bitch. I didn’t know she was back.  _

Cordelia tilts her head in curiosity, trying to figure out what you’re thinking. 

“You know, I lied. Why was Michael here? Interviews ended earlier today, and what I saw didn’t looked like one,” she wonders, raising an eyebrow to you.

“Miss Cordelia, I saw what happened in that hell mouth of a home, where Michael grew up, and I didn’t see a monster. I saw a sad, scared boy with extraordinary powers who has been told his entire life what to do,” you tell her, moving closer and taking one of her hands in yours. “Michael has been manipulated by others telling him who he should become, but he wants to change, and he can. When we held hands, I saw his humanity, his thoughts. I have his memories and he has mine. There’s still good in him, I know it, I-I can heal him, help him, make him into something good,” you spill out these vows to your supreme, tears falling once again down your puffy cheeks. 

She pulls her hand back from your grip, and you're shocked at her surprising action. 

_ You saw the good in me, but why not him? _

“You still don’t get it,” Cordelia spits out, breaking your heart. “Michael is manipulating you, trying to make you his puppet. He knows how powerful you are, that you’re-” she pauses, like she’s afraid to say whatever she was going to next out loud.

“That you’re the next  _ supreme _ .”

You step back, shocked at her accusation.

“What? No, that can’t be true. I’m not-”

“On the contrary, my dear. When I was found you at the foster home, I asked you caretakers why you didn’t have any relatives to come get you. They told me you only had a grandmother, your father’s mother, but she was residing at an old folks home so she couldn’t take you,” she slowly explains to you, giving you time to process this new information.

_ My father told me it was just the two of us, I didn’t know I had a nana. _

I paid her a visit, and I asked her if she knew about you. She said she did, that she always wanted to meet her beautiful granddaughter,” Cordelia brings a hand to your face, wiping away your tears.

“Why didn’t she?” you croak out.

“She wanted to, sweetheart, so badly. But your father told everybody she was crazy, and put her in that home, so she could never see you. You see, your grandmother was a witch too. Healing abilities, just like yourself, she looked so healthy too. She even said your bloodline went all the way back to  _ Salem _ ,” Cordelia takes her hand away and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. 

You can’t help but cry into her shoulder.

“This is why I need to protect you from him. You’re our only hope to stop him, but not yet,” she whispers to you.

“We have to let the world burn first, don’t we?” you finally breathe out, now noticing the wet mess you left on Cordelia’s shoulders. 

“Yes, my child. I will tell the girls in the morning, we’ll be heading to Hawthorne tomorrow, meeting our brothers there. It will protect us from the apocalypse, and Michael. But we should both go to bed, before Myrtle and the rest stumble back,” she laughs, and you let a couple giggles out too. 

She makes her way to exit the room, but stops, and turns around again. 

“You know, out of all of the girls, Michael has shown a keen interest in you. It can’t be just you being the new supreme, he would’ve destroyed you already. So why you?”

You gulp at her question, but lie to her this time.

_ Like sleeping beauty and the spinning wheel.  _

“He was trying to seduce me, Miss Cordelia. Make me his toy,” you lie, hoping she would fall for it.

She doesn’t. Cordelia makes her way back to you. 

“Oh, I could see that. You were going to sell your soul to the devil for a pair of pretty eyes,” she laughs and takes a sit on the couch, where Michael vanished from. 

“No. There’s something else, isn’t there? Something about  _ you _ ,” she asks, patting the spot where you previously sat. “Please, tell me.”

_ No more lies, not to her. _

You sit back down, and tell her your truth.

 

* * *

Myrtle and Cordelia make the announcement to your fellow sisters during breakfast. All of them devastated that they have to leave home, terrified of the world coming to an end. Some were more pissed about living with our fellow brothers, especially Eve.

“Why do we have to live with those greasy rats?” she asks with disgust, chewing her omelette aggressively. “And won’t Michael be able to find us? He literally  _ lived  _ with them.”

Myrtle suppresses a giggle, and Cordelia shakes her head. “No, Eve. Behold has told me that Michael hasn’t been to Hawthorne for a couple days, said that Ariel and Baldwin had him go into the woods, to be left alone, ‘taking in the responsibilities of being the new supreme’,” she explains, making eye contact with you. 

Myrtle rolls her eyes, “Taking in the responsibilities my ass! We’ll have to dispose of the two traitor warlocks soon. And besides, my dear Eve, we’ll be a protection spell over Hawthorne, so Michael won’t be able to get in,” she winks at her, and Eve relaxes in her chair. “Now finish your breakfast ladies and pack up! We leave at noon.”

 

* * *

It doesn’t take you long to pack, since you didn’t have that many things in the coven to begin with. Besides the designer clothes and accessories, you fill your huge black suitcase with the your own clothes, mostly sweatshirts and leggings, a jewelry box, a makeup bag, some spell books, and a wooden box containing essential oils and herbs. The only things that couldn’t fit was your recorder player and a couple vinyls, given to you as a gift from the incomparable Myrtle Snow.

_ In this pathetic world, music is only thing that keeps the chaos at bay, she said once. _

When you finish, you check the time: eleven o’clock. One hour to spare before departure. 

Sitting on your empty bed, you try to figure out what to do next, how to stop and help Michael. 

Cordelia was no help, she already decided to wait until you were ready, wait to see how the world would end. And her and your sisters would be in danger if you were with them, due to your connection with Michael. He would definitely find you, and slaughter the rest.

_ How will Michael, or the people making him their puppet, bring the apocalypse? _

You know it would mostly consist of starvation, disease, violence, and monsters roaming the planet. But you also remembered nuclear fallout. 

Thinking about global news, the only way to bring that kind of destruction to Earth would be the most powerful political leaders coming together and blast the surface with nuclear bombs. 

You then remembered something your father said.

_ See these people on the TV, darling? They’re all evil motherfuckers who don’t care about the fellow man, only themselves.  _

Then you remembered what Cordelia told you the night before. 

_ You were going to sell your soul to the devil for a pair of pretty eyes. _

And that’s when you knew what you had to do. 

You had less than an hour, so you had to make it quick. 

Laying down on the floor, you perform the last and most dangerous spell, the seventh wonder.

_ Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. _

_ Descensum. _

 

* * *

__

You expected Hell to be hot, sweating from the blistering heat from enteral flames. But you felt cold there, like ice eating away at your arm. Shivering, you look around and find yourself in a dark hallway, surrounded by shiny black doors. Walking passed door after door, it seemed the hallway never ended.

_ They must contain personal hells. _

The coldness seemed to vanish, the deep air feeling warmer and warmer as you strolled pass each door.

You could only imagine what would be behind your door.

_ Your father, ripping your identity out from your back, yelling out biblical phrases to shame you. Over and over again.  _

Suddenly, a presence overwhelms you, making you stop. The door on your right slowly opens up. 

You’re hesitant to see what’s inside, even you could take a guess. Curious, like sleeping beauty and the spinning wheel, you stretch out your hand, attempting to open the door wider to see what’s inside.

_ This must be mine. _

All of a sudden, the door slams shut and you find yourself flying backwards, like someone had you on their fish hook and was reeling you in. 

You continue to be pulled away by the invisible force, the shiny black doors becoming blurs on the side. 

Even though you thought the hallway continued on forever, your body stops, still in mid-air, and is pushed against an invisible barrier that feels like a wall, trapped in a black room. Levitating from the ground, you then hear a low, growl voice that spreads all around the dark room.

_ Well, well. What is a child of Her doing down in the underworld?  _

You knew from the booming power coating his voice who it was.

_ Satan. _

Straightening out your back and staring back into the void, you build the confidence to respond to the devil himself.

“I have come here to sell you my soul, to bid my loyalty to you, dear dark Lord,” you boom back into the darkness. “My mother has never been there, to protect me. I’ve stopped praying for her a long time ago, I-”

_ My dear child, I already know your story. You’re the broken angel, daughter of God an a raging alcoholic. _

He lets out a sinister laugh, and you can’t help but respond with shivers down your spine.

_ It’s always the so called “true believers” who hurt the pure and innocent. God loves all, unless if you’re different than the rest, right? Confirms what I’ve always believed.  _

You can’t help but feel the truth to his words, the years of pain and waiting for your mother to come and take you away. To protect you from your father, the true evil. 

“W-What do you believe?” you ask him, your voicing shaking with fear.

_ That God is either all powerful and not all good, or all good and not all powerful. She can never be both.  _

Still looking into the pitch black room, you feel as if the air breathed you in, smelling your secrets and thoughts.

_ There’s another reason why you came, isn’t there?  _

You know exactly what and who he’s talking about. “Yes, it’s your son, he needs-”

_ Michael, yes. My bringer of end times. My concubine.  _

The air shifts once more, this time circling around you.

_ You know, this could be a good thing. My son might need a good...push in the right direction. After all, every kings deserves to have a queen right by his side, to rule together. _

The air stops moving, and you feel yourself pushed even further into the barrier. If it was an actual wall, your body was going to leave a dent in it.

_ I will grant your wish. But remember this, my child. I own you, and you will be at my beckoned call. _

You feel something rise from the bottom of your stomach, but it was a different type of energy. Pain starts to permeate all over your body, making you howl in agony. 

_ Perhaps once you prove your loyalty to me, I’ll give you a pair of pretty black wings. _

He laughs as you bellow in pain, as if all of your organs were being ripped out of your skin. 

The air stops, you begin to sit up, and you’re back on Earth again. 

Putting a hand over your heart, you could already feel a change as you sit in your empty room.

_ This was wrong, but it feels...good.  _

You are under the protect of the dark Lord himself, you just now need to get in the position of a powerful leader and see how you will survive the apocalypse. 

You stare at the ceiling and give it a middle finger.

_ Fuck you, mom. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Please comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night, dreaming evil.”  
> \- Anne Sexton, Her Kind

Your sisters arrived to Hawthorne after a long five hour car ride, arriving with multiple black Cadillac Escalades surrounding the entrance to the underground boys school. 

Unpacking your suitcase, you find yourself quite comfortable in your own room. 

It had no windows, but an orange hue illuminated the room, thanks to several lit candles on different counters in the corners.

During dinner, you met a couple of your fellow warlock brothers, who were shy but very kind to you, as well as reunited with Behold and John Henry. 

“John Henry, I missed you at our last dinner. Where were you?” you ask him, curious to hear his answer. 

He gulps, nervous to tell the truth, so he doesn’t answer you. “Oh, it’s quite the story, my dear. I’ll explain it to you later.”

You notice Cordelia and Myrtle weren’t present with the rest of the company. Before you could ask another question, Behold interrupts you. “They won’t to take care of Ariel and Baldwin. Messy business, but it had to be done,” he sips the rest of his merlot and fills it up again to the top of his wine glass.

After dinner, you finally start to relax in your newly layout. 

Now wearing a red silk dress and a matching robe for bed, you reflect over your encounter with the devil. He made points you never dared to speak out loud, matters that made you question your previous beliefs. Well, your father’s beliefs now.

_ God is either all powerful and not all good, or all good and not all powerful. She can never be both.  _

With your new all allegiance, you can now explore your thoughts and feelings that were suppressed and hidden for so long. 

Lust, greed, and wrath have slipped out of your Pandora box and traveled into your core. 

You head over to your record player, and put a vinyl filled with your favorite oldies. That Ole Devil Called Love by Billie Holiday renders softly in the background as you head over to your table. 

_ And rocks in my heart, it's that sly old sun of a gun again. _

_ He keeps telling me that I'm the lucky one again. _

_ But I still have that rain, still have those tears. _

A massive mirror hangs in front of it, and you can’t help but look at your reflection. You start to discover your body, admiring each wave that shapes your hips, each breast that rests on your chest, each mark on your pale skin. 

_ And those rocks in my heart, s'pose I didn't stay. _

_ Ran away, wouldn't play. _

These were gifts bestowed upon you by God, but you could never praise them. That would be greedy, and that’s not what she wanted. 

_ Fuck what she wanted from you, she left you with him. She was the selfish one. _

As you lather rosewater lotion in your palms, you notice your father’s cross necklace spilling out of your jewelry box on the counter. 

_ And fuck you too, father. _

Eyeing the golden symbol, you place your hands on your neck, gently rubbing circles your sensitive skin. Closing your eyes now, you sigh at your own touch, heat rising to your surface. You squeeze your legs together as pleasures subdues you in a relaxed state. The smell of rosewater takes over your senses, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan. 

You return your gaze at the cross, but you notice the air shift once more. 

Watching closely, the cross, laid normally in front of you, starts moving in a clockwise motion. It stops spinning once it’s completely upside down. 

_ Ave Satanas. _

“The devil, what a potion he would brew?” Michael softly sings behind you, voice of milk and honey.

Startled, you look behind you to see him sitting on your bed, legs crossed and arms folded in his lap. He was wearing a black turtleneck, matching with black pants and shoes.

“Are you really here this time?” you seek him, begging it to be true. 

He stands up and walks halfway to meet you in the middle of the room. “Yeah, I’m here.”

You leave your counter and make your way towards him, taking small strides so he could watch your hips sway like they did before. He looks down at them, but that’s all he does.

Finally face to face, you do his iconic head tilt, staring him down to answer a question.

“Why are you here?”

He slowly brings a hand to your hip, gently gripping onto it and you move into his touch. 

“You’ve changed. I can feel it,” he softly answers, bringing his attention from your hip and into your eyes. Oceans bounded onto white clouds. “I want to know more. About what happened.”

“Michael, I don’t know. I-”

“Your visions didn’t show me what I came to see,” he interrupts you. “Please.” he whispers, intensifying his gaze into yours. 

You know what he’s asking to see, and you can’t deny him that request. He had to see for himself.

You slowly turn yourself around and drop your robe to the floor. Exposing your lower back to him, he makes a choking noise, suppressing what you assumed to be a gasp. 

Two long scars run parallel down your back, resembling where white wings once sprouted.

“He wanted me to tell him that the picture was fake, or that she kissed me first, or that I was too drunk to know what I was doing,” you answer to his silence, wondering what he’s thinking. 

“I refused, and I paid the price for it. He took away my identity, the person I was born to be,” your tears have already slithered down your cheeks, burning your skin along the way. Michael still doesn’t say or do anything, so you keep talking.

“I knew she was my mother. She would speak to me in my dreams, tell me how proud she was and how I destined for greatness,” you feel a hand giver down each scar, one at a time, and you shiver. “Those dreams stopped after I left, and so did my prayers, hoping she would take me with her.”

Michael lowers down, hovering over your scars, and starts kissing each one softly, like light feathers brushing against him your skin. Your shivers take over your body, making your body shake with fear, but also anticipation. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice low and husky, breath tickling your wounds. 

“No,” you croak out as you notice your tears falling to the floor. 

“But does it bring you great pain,” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” you answer, leaning your back into him, hoping he could keep kissing them away. 

He does, even starts licking your scars, releasing whimpers from your mouth.

“You are an angel, and nobody can take that away from you,” his voice is deep and full of sincerity in between each kiss, sucking along the way. 

“A fallen angel now, actually,” you respond back, expecting him to know what you meant. 

With one hand gripping your hip still, Michael spins you around, holding your face with the other, making you face him. You lean into his touch.

Mad About the Boy by Lena Horne starts playing on your vinyl.

“Something  _ has  _ changed about you, I knew it. What did you do?” he questions, demanding a clear answer, but you could only give him Matthew 25:41. 

“Everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels,” you answer, pinching the bottom of his shirt. 

_ I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights I've had, about the boy. _

“You sold your soul to my father? But...but why? I don’t understand,” he shakes his head in confusion. 

You couldn’t tell him the real reason, to protect your sisters and heal him and the world after it’s been swallowed in eternal flames.

_ He melts my foolish heart in every single scene. _

“Because...because I want to see you after you kill me,” you take a big gulp, hoping he would believe you.

He shakes his head, flabbergasted at your answer, and takes your face in both of his hands. 

His sapphire eyes were scorching yours, trying to figure out what to say next. 

As you raise your hands to grasp each elbow, holding his arms so he wouldn’t let go of your face, he gives you a bright smile, with perfect teeth and lips that were to die for.

“Kill you, my love? I  _ worship  _ you,” he confesses, stroking your jaw with his thumb, making you breathe even heavier. 

_ Lord knows I’m not a fool-girl, I really shouldn’t care. _

His eyes start to follow his digit, as it traces along your jaw to your cheek, wiping away a tear that was still on the surface on your swollen skin. Removing his thumb, he leans in and starts kissing where the tear was, pressing softly against the red with his lips. You sigh, a feeling of arousal awakens your core and you have to press your thighs together again. 

When he finishes, he brings back his thumb and traces your lips, making circular motions around them. 

You slightly graze his thumb with your tongue as you part your lips, looking into his eyes with only pure lust, and he inhales sharply.

He removes his thumb before you could take a bite out of his leather digit, and whispers an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

“Kill me,” he orders, his warm breath falling into yours. “But screw me first.”

_ I’m feeling quite insane and young again. _

_ And all because I’m mad about the boy.  _

The music stops and the space between you two closes.

The moment Michael’s lips clashed into yours was a feeling greater than ecstasy. No other drug could get you higher more than he could.

His neck smelled like cinnamon, lips looked like cherries, mouth lasted like oranges.

Michael was a man of many tastes, a color storm clouding your judgment, morals, and power. But you didn’t mind at all. 

You deepen the kiss, adding your tongue into the mix, and he moans on contact. He brings his hand behind your back, pressing your bodies impossibly closer, and you moan in response. It’s like a contest of who can make who mewl the most. 

Michael breaks the kiss, moving along your chin and then down to the base of your jaw, and you throw your head back to give him more to indulge. 

He starts kissing the sweet spot, flicking his tongue on a certain nerve that drives you crazy, and you roll your eyes back as you loudly gasp in response.

_ He might win this game. _

You grab a handful of his strawberry blonde and pull it towards you, allowing him to go deeper into your sensitive skin, and he groans against it. 

Michael then latches onto your neck with his teeth, and it makes your head spin because you remember doing the same to him during the interview.

“Michael,” you purr into his ear, wrapping a leg around his waist, rocking your core against his growing bulge, diving deeper into your tender flesh with a hungry groan. 

You notice how wet you were already getting just being coiled in his body, spellbound with every touch, every kiss he bestowed on you. Michael Langdon had an effect on you like no other, and you wanted to show your gratitude to him. 

“Let’s go to bed, now,” you command, licking and nibbling at his ear.

With no hesitation, Michael lifts you up, holding up your thighs while you wrap your other leg around his waist. As he strides you both, you wonder if he’s ever had sex before, imagining how a virgin could bring such seduction and pleasure to the table. 

Before he could lay you on the satin sheets, you grab his shoulders and spin him around, his body falling on the bed as you remain on top. 

Even though his face seemed surprised, the rest of his body seemed turned on by your maneuver, his erection pressing against your exposed, dampened folds, and you moan again on impact. 

You start to grind your hips against his, spreading your wetness against his clothed groin, and he bites his lips hard trying to suppress a low moan. 

You lean down, hovering over his covered body, and pull down his turtleneck to expose his glorious neck. Your fingers graze his Adam’s apple before you clasp your hand around his throat, and he sighs when you squeeze a little bit harder to suppress his breathing so he can focus on you.

“I love this outfit, baby, but it would look better on my floor,” you whisper in a low voice, nipping on his Adam’s apple. 

You pull your body back as Michael lifts up his shirt and tosses it to the side, exposing lean muscle and glowing skin. He then removes his shoes and socks next, kicking them off of each other.

As he starts to loosen his belt, you bend down against, and started leaving light feathered kisses all over his warm body. His skin increased in temperature, like burned cinnamon, each time your lips hit a new spot. 

You smiled as you felt him remove his pants and underwear behind you, knowing that the Antichrist was laying on you bed completely naked and subdued by you. 

Michael reaches for your silk dress, tugging at the bottom. 

“This would look better on the floor too,” he whispers finally, smirking at you. 

You return it back. “Can you do it? You did such a good job last time.”

You take his other hand and bring it to the opposite hip where the end of your dress fell. Michael slowly lifts up the red silk from your body, exposing first your core, then your stomach, then your breasts. 

As you fling the fabric onto the floor, Michael latches onto one of your nipples with his swollen mouth, like a leech ready to taste blood. He brings a hand to the other, rolling your areola between his thumb and index finger. 

The mixed sensations of his wet lips and leathered fingertips sends you down a spiral, throwing your head back and loudly moaning his name. 

You spread your legs further apart, your wetness slipping out of you and soaking his abdomen, and you rock your hips once more to spread it. 

He hums into your nipple, fiddling with the other as he matches your rocking with his hips.

Michael takes his free hand and brings it to your pussy, taking two fingers and playing with your wet folds. 

Your purring turned into moaning as he inserts one finger inside you, while the other rubbed your swollen clit with your honey. 

You start to dissolve above him, grabbing the sides of his stomach to position yourself better, slowly bringing yourself up and down against his finger. 

“I want to taste every part of you, baby,” he whispers as he continues to suckle on your harden nipple. 

Michael removes his finger and you gasp with this bitter release, but he gives your clit one last good rub before you brings both figures to his lips, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Inside and out,” he murmurs as he slips both digits into his mouth, trying to lick them clean from your wetness. 

Before he could finish, you grab his fingers and give them a good sucking, tasting your own sweet nectar. 

Michael mewls as you suck his fingers clean, giving them a good flick of your tongue before release. 

You bring your face to his, both of your noses rubbing against each other.

“Don’t just have a taste baby,” you breathe into his mouth, feeling his sharpen as he inhales. “Eat the whole fucking meal.”

Before you could do anything else, Michael grabs your hips with a tight grip and lifts you up, bringing you right above his face, looking at the orange tinted walls. 

As he lowers his hands to your thighs to get a better hold on you, he lifts up his head and breathes in your soaked petals, making you whimper. 

“If you insist, darling.”

You howl out his name as Michael latches onto your dripping core, like a wolf screaming out her lover’s name. 

His tongue licking your swollen clit was the piece missing inside your puzzle, swirling around your folds with your honey dripping around his face.

You grab his beautiful blonde locks and press his face into your hips, trembling as he sticks his tongue further in. 

Buried inside you, Michael keeps on swirling his tongue, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, your pussy getting more and more sensitive each time he slicks it. 

If you still had a soul, Michael was sucking it out of you. 

You knew with your shaky legs, loud moans, and swollen core that you were close to your end. 

As if Michael couldn’t go any further, he takes a bite out of your wet clit, nibbling on each fold as he brings one of his hands up and inserts two fingers inside you like before. 

With one twist and one last like, you fall off the edge and into oblivion.

Sensation takes over your body as you come on Michael’s face, still burrowed in between your legs, your spine receiving endless shivers and thighs trembling against his grip. You screamed his name so loud you wouldn’t be surprised of your neighbors complained to Cordelia in the morning.

The unraveling continues on for a long time, almost felt like centuries have passed since you saw his face with his perfect teeth and plumped cherry lips, which were still down on your pussy.

When your body finally stops convulsing, Michael was still licking and sucking your sap around your inner thighs. 

“That was amazing, Michael. Thank you,” you breathe heavily, looking up at the ceiling.

But the Antichrist wasn’t done with you yet. 

Michael flips you over to lay on the bed and hovers over your body, his erection pressed against your stomach. 

“I’m not finished with you yet angel. I gotta make you fly again,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and ready for a fight.

You grab his cock with both hands, rubbing his girth with your thumbs, and he curses under his breath. 

“Try your best demon,” you mutter as you take a bite out of his lower lip and he groans in response.

Michael pries open your legs, showcasing your hot and wet core to him once more. He hovers over your body, your head in between his hands gripped into the satin sheets. 

As he takes one more look of your naked body, you feel the familiar force surround the two of you. 

You look up into his cerulean pools, basking in his excellence that is presented above you. You feel his thoughts overtake yours.

_ Is this what you really want? No turning back. _

But you made that final decision when you sold your soul to his father.

_ I want to see you sick for me. _

And with one swift motion, Michael slips inside and fills you up to the brink. 

Gasping into his ear, you grab onto his shoulders, surprised by how quickly he made you squirm. 

He was completely buried inside of you, your pussy aching in pain and pleasure of being so full. 

Slowly, Michael starts thrusting in and out of you, making you whimper beneath him. 

After each go, you could handle his girth rocking back and forth inside you, and now you wanted more.

“Faster, baby. I can handle you,” you whisper into his ear, nipping at his earlobe, and he hisses in response. 

The thrusts became faster, harder, and more intoxicating after each hit inside your core. 

Pleasure consumes your body once more, and you don’t know much longer you can last with his cock pounding your pussy. 

Feeling your body ready to unravel around him again, Michael brings your body to a sitting position, still thrusting in and out of you.

But his cock hits you deeper this way, pushing your release sooner than expected. 

Now with his lips against your neck, Michael rotates between sucking and biting against your flesh, making you moan even loader while his thrusting continued below. 

“Michael, I can’t hold it on any longer. I’m sorr-”

your mewls were interrupted by his lips crashing into you, hushing your apologies away and bringing back the taste of wild oranges.

“Let go, baby. I’ll be here,” he mutters softly against your lips, and your second orgasm hits your body like a semi. 

Your core convulses around his cock as he continues to thrust inside of you, rushing into his own release. 

You had no wings, but you felt like you were flying. 

Michael made you feel so high, made you feel so good, made you feel like the person you were supposed to be. 

As he came inside you, igniting your hot core, an image of hellfire surrounding your bed blurred your vision. 

You dissolve into him, and he lowers himself on your bed, resting your head on his chest.

 

* * *

You two lay in bed together for hours, silencing filling the room, but no one needed to speak to know what was next.

The next time you would see each other, Michael will have started the apocalypse, ending the world as we know it today. 

All you have to do know is secure a spot from a powerful leader and survive the end times. 

And that is when you can save him. He’s still conflicted, even now. Even after  _ that _ . 

_ He will realize what he has done , and he will repent and beg for mercy.  _

Before you could insist on Michael leaving, no matter how madly you wanted him to stay, he slowly starts to travel down your body, hold you down so you don’t protest against him.

He starts kissing the corner of your hip bone and you shiver.

“Michael, shouldn’t you get back to your hell?” you could only manage to whisper again, desire filling up your core and making your cheeks flush red. 

He smiles against your smooth skin, looking up at you with lustful eyes.

“You’re my hell now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Hope you caught some of the quotes from Apocalypse and Hotel (hehe)   
> Please comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.”  
> \- Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

You wake up hours later and notice Michael has already left. There’s no open window to see if the sun is shining down on you, not being able to see what lies outside. 

Not until Armageddon has taken its course. 

_ But you can’t stay here, you have to leave. For your sisters and brothers. _

_ For your coven. _

Getting up from your bed and putting back on your robe, you notice a paper and feathered black pen on top of your neighboring nightstand. 

You pick up the paper and it has a drawn in a pair of black wings. Below it had a quote that read:

 

_ “For if God did not spare the angels who sinned, but cast them down to hell and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved for judgment.” _

 

_ What a load of bullshit. _

 

_ I miss you already. _

 

_ M _

 

* * *

After passing through dark hallways and corridors, you finally make your way to the dining room downstairs and see all of your fellow brothers and sisters sitting at a long wooden table, eating scrambled eggs and bacon. Even Cordelia was there, sitting by Myrtle.

You find a seat directly across from her, taking a spot right next to Behold, of course. 

As you eat your breakfast, you couldn’t help but look at Cordelia, fixated at her plate. Horror smeared all over her face, frighteningly shaking a in her hand. Myrtle holds the utensil and starts whispering to your supreme, calming her down.

_ What’s wrong with her? What did she see? _

Then you remember something Myrtle said yesterday before you all left Miss. Robichaux.

 

_ And besides, my dear Eve, we’ll be a protection spell over Hawthorne, so Michael won’t be able to get in. _

 

But Myrtle was wrong, Michael did get in. He was here last night.

_ No. _

And it’s all because of you.

_ What have I done? _

Cordelia looks at you, eyes now filled with darkness and hatred. She knows.

_ You have to leave and you have to leave now. Before she can stop you.  _

But there’s something else, she smirks at you, malevolence written in plain sight. 

_ What have you done? _

And now you’re the frightened one.

_ Michael _

With the energy coursing through your veins, you try and conduct your bond with him. You had to know what happened.

You had to make sure he was okay. 

You feel a force binding you to him, but it wasn’t just his thoughts, it was his feelings too.

 

_ Fear. Angry. Hatred. Suffering. _

 

Michael cries out in echoes throughout your mind, like someone was ripping out his heart right and couldn’t help but watch it happen with his own eyes. 

Like someone was tearing out his soul.

 

You can’t bear it any longer and let go. Behold notices your heavy breaths and puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” he asks with concern.

You grab onto his other hand and give him a smile. “Yes, sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He doesn’t grin back, for his attention is now Cordelia, who’s now talking to Eve on the far end.

“You know, she would do anything to keep you girls safe,” Behold says to you, keeping his focus on Cordelia. 

“Yes, I know,” you respond to him.

 

* * *

 

As soon as everyone is dismissed from breakfast, you rush upstairs and into your room, yellow candles still giving the dark space some light.

You could only pack as much as Eve’s backpack could carry, which you stole once you and the girls arrived at Hawthorne. 

Stuffing articles of clothing, tampons, and one spell book in the bag, you had to figure out which spot you should take in place of a powerful mortal. There are many powerful leaders in the world who have sold their souls to Satan, but which one to kill was tricky. 

You’ve never killed anyone before, and you couldn’t really go to Russia and kill Putin.

And that gives you a wonderful idea, doing Michael and the apocalypse a favor. 

_ Donald Trump. _

Just before you could leave your room, sisters, and brothers all behind, you feel someone grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You shudder in fear.

_ Cordelia no.  _

Instead, Michael pulls you back and embraces you, wrapping both arms tightly around, afraid to let go. You sigh into his shoulder, squeezing him back. “Oh, Michael.”

Pulling back to look at him, and it breaks your heart to see that he’s been crying, face stained and swollen from fallen tears. His black suit and red tie torn and he’s covered in dirt. “What happened to you? I felt something, it was horrible. So much pain, I-” 

“She...killed them. All of them... And Ms. Meade...She’s gone she...I thought she got you too…” he shakes under heavy breaths and you could only imagine what had just happened.

_ Ms. Meade. The nice lady. _

“Michael, I’m not safe here. I let you in, I broke their protection spell to be with you. I have to go, to protect them,” you explain, cupping his face and wiping a stray tear from his cheek. 

He pushes his forehead against yours, leaning into your touch. “I won’t touch them, I swear. I just need you to do one thing.”

“What is it?” you ask him, looking down at his shut eyes like they were too scared to open with his answer.

“Come with me,” he insists. 

You let go of his face, pulling yourself away from him and shaking your head. Your plans were withering away, everything you worked up to. “Michael, I can’t. I have to go, by myself. You can’t be with me, this wasn’t part-” your words fumble as he mouth molds over yours. He grips your hips tighter to bring your bodies closer together, and you can’t help but sigh into his lips. They were so cold, so wet, while the rest of his body was radiating heat being around your body. And you realize that the only place you ever wanted to be was in that moment, wrapped in his arms, kissing his cherry lips, and breathing in his scent, now an aroma of clove and sandalwood. 

_ If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets. _

“Please, I beg you. I couldn’t bear if you left me too,” Michael pleads, looking down at you with his bright blue eyes, and there was no chance in Hell you could say no. 

You land soft kisses around his mouth, brushing his chin and jawline along your path. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

_ This might be better. You’ll be closer, you can save him quicker. And you’ll be at his side while the world burns.  _

You shudder thinking of what his father told you as you were selling him your soul.

_ After all, every king deserves to have a queen right by his side, to rule together. _

Michael grabs your hand as you both head out of your room and into the dark hallway. 

_ Like Hades taking Persephone to the Underworld. _

Before you both could make it to the exit door, to escape your coven, you lead the world in eternal flames, your supreme was standing in front of the barricaded doors.

You stare at Michael and all you could his blue eyes turn into dark holes. 

“You…” he snarls, but Cordelia just snickers back. 

“I knew I couldn’t trust you. Because of you and your carnal pleasures, you have put all of your brothers and sisters in danger. And it’s because of  _ him _ ,” she walks slowly towards the both of you and Michael shields your body with his.

“Cordelia, you took away the only woman I have ever trusted, who has never betrayed me. I will let you all live,” Michael explains, grabbing your hand once more, entwining his fingers with yours. “But you need to let her go. She will be safe with me. I won’t hurt her.”

“Cordelia, I can’t stay here. You guys are better off without me,” you insist to your supreme as you let go of Michael and stand by his side.

_ She needs to understand her plan. You’re not against her. It’s what needs to be done. _

“Bullshit. Do you take me for a fool, my dear? I know you sold your soul, but it was because you couldn’t help it. You were seduced by the  _ Antichrist _ ,” Cordelia was now only a few feet away from the two of you, reaching for something in her black dress pocket. “Yes, Michael. I killed your precise warlocks and Ms. Meade. I thought I got rid of all of your allies, but it seems I was wrong.”

Cordelia, the person who brought you into the coven, who cared for you like you were her own daughter, now looked at you like roadkill, disgusted by what you’ve become. “But I need you, my dear, and I need you to  _ forget _ .”

_ No. _

Before Cordelia could pull the white dust from her pocket, Michael lunges towards her, grunting and clutching his hands into fists. With one sweep motion with her other hand, your supreme moves Michael and pushes him into the hallway wall. He shakes and jerks around, but he can’t get out of it. 

You make your way towards him, but the same forces push you away from him and into the opposing side wall. 

Cordelia moves closer to you, now only inches away from your convulsing body. “I’m sorry, but you gave me no choice.”

She brings her hand to your face and white powder takes over your senses as Michael screams out your name. 

Everything starts to feel fuzzy, starts to fade away, and your senses start to leave your body. 

You feel your body hit the floor, and your eyes make out Michael dropping to the floor too and running towards your body. He holds you in his arms, holding your face to look at him.

“No, no, no...Please, please...Stay with me,” he mumbles to your stiff body. 

You couldn’t look at him, even though you wanted to desperately. Your face was frozen in a thoughtless expression like a caveman stuck in ice. 

The rest of your senses, your memories, and your emotions start to travel out of your body, leaving behind a void of an angel. 

The last thing you remember is Michael’s thoughts, repeating a phrase over and over within your bond. 

_ Come find me when you wake up. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Sorry, this chapter was so short, I'm setting up what's to come next (-: Please comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I met the wolf alone and was devoured in peace”  
> -Edna St. Vincent Millay, True Encounter

There was one thing feeling like shit, but cleaning it up was another.

Being a Gray was exhausting, disgusting, and cruel. No Purple gave you the respect you deserved, you weren’t treated as well as them. You felt like an insect being looked at under a microscope.

The apocalypse left the whole world in a nuclear fallout mess, no being allowed outside, to be free of disease, war, and monsters. The world has ceased its end, even with several of its underground outposts running.

Each day in Outpost 3 was as boring as the next, same cleaning duties with the same nutritional cubes for dinner.

It was several months before something different came around. Or someone.

That morning, Outpost leader Ms. Venable summoned all the Purples and Grays for a gathering in the living room, saying that they had a visitor. “She won’t say who, probably someone she fears,” a Purple comments to you. Venable stands in the middle of the room, right in front of the gigantic fireplace. 

The fire and a few small candles were the only things lighting up the dark corridor. 

As the Purples find somewhere to sit and the Grays find somewhere to stand, the room stays silent for several minutes. 

Standing next to the entrance, you hear faint footsteps, getting louder and louder every passing second. Suddenly, the footsteps stop, and what stands beside you is a man.

A man with long blonde hair, dressed in all black with golden rings. A man with plumped lips, scorching blue eyes, and the scent of passion and fire.

He doesn’t look at you, but his presence, his aura startles you being so close to him. It troubles you, but also makes your heart fill up with anticipation. 

And you wanted to figure him out.

He strides gracefully towards Venable, and takes her place in the center, only with some hesitation and a stare down on her part.

“My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative,” the man introduces, staring down the residents of the outpost. 

_ Langdon. Why does that sound familiar? _

His speech entailed a report saying that the majority of the remaining outposts have been overrun, making Outpost 3 one of the last facilities still standing. 

“What happened to the people inside?” a Purple questions.

Langdon smirks at him. “Massacred,” he responds. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you-”

“Almost all?” you interrupt him, shocked by your small outburst.

The man in black stares at you, studies you, briefly looking down your body. You finally notice the red eyeshadow which surrounds his eyes, making the blue irises pop. You’re surprised that he doesn’t snarl at you, or stare down at you like you’re nothing, like Venable and the Purples do.

He looks at you with ardor, curiosity and perhaps something else. 

_ Sympathy? _

He briefly mentions The Sanctuary, an outpost with enough supplies and food to last for a couple more years, though he dodges the questions the Purples ask about it. He informs you all that he will be holding interviews, making him the deciding factor of who goes with him to the unique outpost. Those who stay will be left with what little remains, and white pills for a never-ending sleep. 

“I’m looking forward to meeting each and every one of you,” Langdon looks across the room, eyeing every Purple and Gray in sight. He lingers his gaze just a little bit longer on you before he strides away and exits the room. 

As everyone starts to leave after him, you hear some gossip among a few Purples.

“Do the Grays even know he’s only going to interview the Purples?”

“They can’t be  _ that  _ dumb. Why would he want to take  _ servants  _ to the Sanctuary?”

You head back to your room, roll into your bed, and tears stain your cheeks red.

 

* * *

What have you done?

_ The boy laid on the ground, holding a girl in his shaky arms. She was still as frozen ice, eyes glossed over in a daze she couldn’t wake up from. _

She’s under a spell only I can break. She will have no memory of her powers, this coven, or you.

_ A woman stands not far away, aware of the damage she has caused. The pain she has brought to him. _

She won’t remember me?  _ His words tremble as do his hands which hold her head up. The shaking finally stops as he kisses the girl on her forehead, and it seems like a goodbye.  _

I will let your coven live, at least for now. But do one thing for me, one thing to make this pain go away.

_ He begs the woman, standing up and approaching her now. _

And what would that be, son of darkness?  _ She asks, already knowing his request. _

_ His words burn his mouth more than the fires he will lay across the world. _

Make me forget her too.

 

* * *

You wake up covered in your sweat, breathing heavy as you get up from your bed. You’ve had this dream multiple times before, returning with more detail each night.

But somehow, it seemed more real each time you woke up, that you were the motionless girl laying on the floor.

That you were loved by that boy in another life, and your heart ached for him. 

 

Throughout the day, you do the duties all Grays do; scrub the floors, fix the bedsheets, clean the bathrooms, and many other gross and poor tasks while the Purples lay on the couches, snickering at you and drinking mineral water.

Interviews were still going on and it made you miserable thinking about your bleak future.

_ He’s only going to interview the Purples. _

One of the Purples, a young man who didn’t seem to have graduated high school, approaches you as you scrub the wooden boards of the living room.

“Langdon wants to see you, says you’re up next for questioning. I mean, if you want,” he mutters to you, resulting in nearby Purples gasping at his words.

Confused, you stand up and remove the cleaning gloves you were wearing. You look around and notice your fellow Grays staring at you. The unhappy expressions on their faces made you realize they probably weren’t given an interview.

_ Why me? _

As you make your way to the interview room, your nerves start to get the best of you, making your palms sweat and knees shake. You take a deep breath in before you knock on the extended doors.

“Come in,” you hear Langdon insist, and you can’t help but think you’ve been through this before. 

Being interviewed by a man you barely knew but wanted to know everything about him.

You push the sliding door to find Langdon at his desk, fixated on a pile of documented files.

When he finally looks up, he gives you a sinister smile and rises up from his seat.

_ You’ve definitely been here before. _

“Ah, my last subject! I’ve been expecting you, darling,” Langdon makes a gesture over to the burgundy armchairs on the other side of the room, right next to a mild fireplace. “Please, take a seat.”

Slowly, you make your way over to an empty chair, feeling his stare behind you. Sitting down, you try to make yourself presentable, straightening out your back and fumbling your hands in your lap.

Langdon chuckles, standing now in front of his desk. “There’s no need to be nervous, darling.”

“It’s more confused than nervous, Mr. Langdon,” you respond back while you stare at your hands, not looking at him, hoping he doesn’t notice how rosy your cheeks got after he called you  _ darling _ . “I-I didn’t think you were interviewing Grays.”

“Oh, I’m not.” His response surprises you, and you find the courage to finally look at him. You felt his eyes wandering into yours, trying to figure you out. Langdon leans back, slightly sitting on top of his desk, prompting his hands to support himself. 

“Then...then what do you want with me? I don’t understand,” you manage to mumble out, trying to make sense why you were there.

“I can see into the dark places that people desperately try to keep hidden,” Langdon confesses to you, his voice low and raspy.

“I don’t have any dark places,” you assure him, trying to remember anything from your past that would be acknowledged as a sin. And you can’t think of  _ anything _ .

“Really?” he questions you, now making his way over to you while holding his hands behind him. “Because that’s not what I see at all.”

He now hovers over you, staring down at you while you look down at your shaky hands once more.

“I see a woman who won’t apologize to anyone, who doesn’t regret her past choices. Even the most the sinful crimes,” he starts to lower down to your level, face to face and only a couple inches away. “I want a world without the hypocrisy, with the kinds of people who wouldn’t just eat the fruit from the forbidden tree but who would cut the  _ fucking  _ tree down and burn it for firewood.”

Langdon sets one hand on top of your knee, gently prying apart your legs to open to him more so he can get closer to you. The maneuver makes you squirm, sending shivers down your spine and making your breathing heavier. 

“I think you’re made for that world, darling. I sense it in you,” his seductive voice echoed in your ears, and you knew he was doing this on purpose. 

But you could tell he was curious too, curious about  _ you.  _

“There’s something about you,” he cues while his hand on your knee slowly slides up your thigh, and you don’t stop him, as he lifts up his other hand to your face, tracing the side of your cheek. “You feel so familiar. Doesn’t this  _ feel _ familiar?” 

You bit your lip to repress a moan as he squeezes your thigh and strokes your jaw. “Mr. Langdon,” you heavily exhale, lifting up your head so your neck becomes more exposed to him. 

“Please, ‘Mr. Langdon’ sounds too formal,” he purrs, breathing down your neck and moving his hand down your body and grabs your hip. “Call me Michael.”

“Michael,” you find yourself repeating his name as he stows soft kisses along your jawline and neck. 

His name, his voice, his touch, his lips were almost too familiar, as if you two have been through this before. 

Nonetheless, you can’t help but think the other Purples, men and women, he also seduced during their time of questioning. To pick at their humanity by presenting their weaknesses towards the attractive man. 

You pull on his blonde hair, noticing hints of a strawberry hue in it, and bring your mouth to his ear. “Michael, I want to leave,”

As you make an attempt to pull away from him and stand up, Michael holds you down by grabbing your face with both hands. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? Of accepting who you are.”

A tear starts to fall down your rosy cheeks, shaking from the truth of his words. “I don’t know who I am.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asks, confusion spread across his face, red eyeshadow encircling those irresistible sapphire eyes.

“I have memories before the apocalypse, but I can’t help but feel they’re not my own. Sometimes, I feel like there’s someone buried inside me, trying to claw their way out,” you confess to him, voice filled with fear. “I can’t tell if she’s good or bad.”

“Well, what’s the harm in both?” Michael chuckles, wiping your tear away. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know, but I have to go,” you break away from his hold before he could resist, pacing your way towards the sliding door. 

Just before you make it out of the room, Michael grabs your wrist, making you stop. “Don’t be afraid, darling. I’m offering you a chance to live.”

But you were getting annoyed with him, especially now with his hold on you. Langdon couldn’t be trusted, even with this connection you had with him. 

The blood in your veins began to rise, but so did some energy you never felt before. Or one you haven’t felt in a long time.

“I said  _ let me go _ !” you growl at him, protruding any force you felt within. 

The next thing you knew, all of the candles in the room blew away, and so did Michael, leaving the room in a dark sinister aura and him on the floor. 

_ What did you just do? _

Looking down at him, you see Michael breathing heavy, shocked by what you’ve just done.

He stands up, and his demeanor becomes demonic. 

Lunging at you, Michael’s face transforms from a handsome man to a white, cracked monster. In response, you lunge towards him as well, conducting any power you had left, or what you thought you still had. 

The fireplace which was burnt out before ignites in gigantic flames, illuminating the entire room and Michael deflects the heat by shielding himself.

You stand there, knees locked to help stop the shaking, hands gripped into fists.

Michael gains back his composure, his face transformed back to normal and was shaking with fear as well. With matching heavy breaths and quivering bodies, the two of you just stare at each other, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. 

“Who are you?” Michael asks, voice sounding unsteady and terrified. 

You shake your head because you wish you knew the answer too, for both of you. “I don’t know. Who are you?”

Before anything else deranged could happen, you turn around and bolt of the room, not bothering to close the sliding door on your hurried way out.

You could feel Michael’s troubled gaze follow you until you were out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! I know I made the interrogation scene similar to Michael and Mallory’s but it just felt like the best way for them to try to figure out that they know each other. Please comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have crossed oceans of time to find you.”  
> \- Bram Stoker, Dracula

The morning after went on like nothing happened, doing Gray duties and keeping to your damn self. You never say Langdon, but you could swear you felt that he was watching you, almost like he could see right through walls, or an invisible mist which stood right behind you wherever you’d go. 

That morning, Venable had exciting news to share, informing you all that it was All Hallow’s Eve and that they were throwing a party for us being such good residents. 

For being the last running outpost on Earth.

You should’ve been excited, you should’ve been getting ready for the party, but this meant you had to become a servant for the Purples first, obeying their orders, shining their shoes, and wiping their assholes first. 

_ Fuck them and fuck this party. _

After a couple hours of helping the Purples become Victorian royalty, you decided you could shower then take a short nap before you got ready, which wouldn’t take long because you didn’t have much fancy material yourself.

Coming out of your hot shower, you grab the towel hanging just outside of it and started rubbing it in your hair before covering it up with your body. Purples get two towels, and Grays get one each.

Moving towards the foggy bathroom mirror, you notice  _ 666  _ written on the glass and you gasp in shock. You look around to see if anybody was in the community bathroom with you. “Hello?”

A wicked chuckle echoes throughout the room, and you look back to see the mirror clear of fog and with no numbers on it.

You haven’t been this terrified in awhile. 

It doesn’t take you long to get ready, to put on your normal Gray outfit. You only had a black lace mask to accessorize your boring dress, and you don’t even bother to blow dry your hair since it’ll be in a dorky bun anyway. 

The candles in your bedroom were only halfway gone, it meant you still had about an hour left before the party, so you wanted to take a nap and relax before you had to go back to servant girl once more.

Not even bothering to be covered, you lay on top of your blankets, close your eyes, and ease under a dreamless sleep. 

Several minutes pass by, and you could tell by the faded candlelight in the room that your time was almost up. As you stretch out your arms and legs, you sense a cool breeze entering your room, drawing shivers from your back. 

You look up and notice the door was still closed. Nobody got in, but  _ something _ did. Glancing down from your bed, a spooky, emerald mist hovers above the floor, slowly making its way towards you.

You should’ve been afraid, you should’ve gotten up from your bed and ran out the door. But you stared at it, intrigued, and laid back down onto the bed, wondering what it’s next move was. 

The jade fog climbed onto the end of your bed, gradually gliding up your foot, your leg, and then your thigh. Like a snake slithering up the path to strike its prey, hissing your name to taunt your surrender to it.

Its icy touch felt like a dry burn onto your skin as it slewed under your dress, and you breathing hitches on contact. A burning desire starts to form inside of you, making you squirm and grab the blanket from underneath you. 

All of a sudden, the mist didn’t feel so ghostly anymore, becoming denser near your sensitive skin, and the changed form felt like a hand grazing your inner thigh.

You couldn’t see what it actually was now, for your eyes were closed and you failed to suppress a moan from bitten lips. What was this aura, this  _ thing  _ what was seducing you? It wasn’t human, but you didn’t mind. 

You haven’t been touched like this for so long you couldn’t remember the last time you felt  _ this  _ good. 

This wasn’t something you wanted; it was something you  _ needed _ .

Then, the hand squeezes your thigh, and you release your lower lip from your teeth and whimper loudly, throwing your head back against your pillow. 

Before you could bring your head forward to see exactly what this was, another hand gently grabs your face, bringing your eyes to the culprit and caressing your cheek.

Standing before you in the dim, dark room was the blonde man, with crimson eyeshadow and scorching cobalt eyes.

_ Langdon. _

Before you could say anything, he slowly strokes your cheek with his fingers, grazing their way down. He looks down at you, breathing heavy as well, eyes charged with desire and interest.

“I have crossed oceans of time to find you,” he purrs, leaning closer to your ear as he brings his touch to your lips. 

Confused by his words, you open your mouth to question, but he places his thumb in between your lips and slides it in. 

You close your eyes to savor the taste of his leathered digit, bringing up both hands to hold and allow it to go deeper into your mouth as he licks your earlobe. 

Michael only tasted like blood, but for some erotic reason, you craved more of it, stroking his thumb with your tongue to relish over the metallic flavor. 

“How are we strangers? You know my body, and I know yours,” he hissed as he nibbles on your ear, making you whimper around his digit. 

You shiver from his words, scared from the truth slipping from his own lips. 

His touch, his voice, his entire atmosphere felt so familiar. Almost  _ too _ familiar, almost like you two were past lovers from another timeline. 

And this made you anxious to be near him.

“Please, do not fear me,” he assured you, grazing his teeth into your neck below your ear, whispering your name against blazed skin. His words sounded so tender, and you relax a little from his candor.

With one quick motion, he liberates his thumb from your mouth and swings his leg around your body, now sitting perfectly on top of you. He lowers his released hand and slides it under your dress, now having two hands caressing your inner thighs to get your attention. 

You mewled fully,  eyes fluttering from heavy lungs and the consumed blackness. The only thing you could see in the dark was his bright blue eyes staring into your soul.

“Who are you?” you now ask him. “I-I know you.”

“I know, darling,” he purrs, lowering his head to your clothed pelvis. He opens his mouth and sucks on your covered groin. You throw your head back, moaning aloud with irresistible pleasure building up from your core. Unapologetically, you buck your hips into his wet mouth, hoping he could taste your sap through the dampened dress. He smiles against you, stroking one last lick against your robed core with his tongue. 

Before you could grind your hips into him once more, he gradually travels up your body, leaving kisses in his wake. Even covered in a heavy dress, your body felt like it was on fire. 

He lips finally fondled your skin when he reaches your neck, sucking on your throat in between each gently kiss. “That’s why I need to protect you.”

_ From who? Venable? _

“Langdon-,” you breathed, beginning to form your question before he grabbed your face in both hands, making you stare into his cerulean eyes. He looked worried, frantic, and absolutely lost. 

“Please, call me Michael,” he begged in whispers, his lips only inches from yours.

“Okay, Michael,” you find yourself repeating once again. 

Saying his name made it seem so real like it made you remember him, once upon a time. You couldn’t help but repeat it so close to him, just like during the interview.

And this time you wanted him to stay. 

“Michael.”

He crashed his lips into yours after his name left yours, swallowing each letter that left your mouth.  Unlike his thumb, his mouth tasted like wild oranges, so soft and sweet, and you sucked on the delightful flavor. You both lost control over the kiss, with clashing teeth, swirling tongues, and nudging noses. 

Michael couldn’t get enough of you, and you wanted to devour every single drop he had to give. Feral wolves howling and consuming into each other under a blood moon.

The passion lasted wait seemed like hours, molding mouths in the dark was something you never wanted to stop. Michael was the first to pull away, and you whimpered from his bitter release. 

His lips were so swollen, wine-colored hills soaked from your wet mouth. He looked absolutely ethereal, lush golden hair and blue eyes sparkling in the dark room. 

“I have to go,” he muttered, pain and regret filling your ears. 

As he lifts his body from a top of yours, you grab his wrist and stop him from moving any further away from you. 

“Please, don’t leave me,” you beg him.

You’ve felt so despondent ever since you arrived at the outpost. You made no friends, no Gray or Purple even bothered to share some comradery with you.  

Being with Michael was the first time you didn’t feel alone in this ruined world. 

“I have to take care of something, then I’ll be right back,” Michael leans down and kisses you on the forehead. “I promise, darling.”

As he exits the room, fear starts to settle in your stomach once more.

Not of him, but what he’s about to do.

 

About twenty minutes go by before Michael comes back. He didn’t look hurt or injured, but he did change his dinner jacket from black to maroon, and you smiled at his presence. 

You leave your bed to meet him in the middle of the room to embrace him. His body felt so warm and welcomed, and his golden hair shined bright from the crack of light coming into the dark room.

“What did you do?” you question him, looking up at him, eyes locked on his. 

“Don’t worry. Nobody is going to bother us anymore.  _ Nobody _ ,” he grabs your face once more and molds his pursed lips in yours. 

You couldn’t help but feel that what he did, he did it for you. Like he knew you felt isolated here, nobody wanting for compassion or care. But he felt it.

Pulling away, you look back at him, and nod, not asking any more questions. “Okay.”

“I don’t know how, but we’re going to figure this out,” Michael tells you, his voice assertive and out to seek justice. “I can’t explain it, but we have some connection. An unrecognizable bond. There were so many people in that room, and I could only feel  _ you _ .”

You remembered what he felt then and his sympathy towards you, and now you were going to figure it out why.

_ Together. _

Michael takes a step back to look at you in the dim light, absolutely entranced by the form of you. He reaches out a hand to you. “Come with me.”

And you gracefully accept his gesture. 

As you both exit your room and into the dark hallway, one of Venable’s bodyguards, Meade, stands at the end of it. 

“Langdon, we have company,” she tells him with a straight posture and face with no emotion. 

“I know, I felt it,” he responds to her as you both make your way around the circled floor and down the stairs to the lowest level.

You both stop at the top of the last set of middle stairs to see three figures stand at the bottom in front of the fire pit. 

Three women who looked like they were ready to rescue you and kill him.

“You,” Michael snarls at the middle one with long blonde and black hooded dress. 

The youngest, pretty-looking one looks over that the middle one, who seemed to be the leader. “Cordelia, I thought you said they don’t remember each other.”

The middle one, deemed Cordelia, raises a hand to her younger comrade. “They don’t, Madison. And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Who are you?” you were the first to ask, wondering what they were doing here. You look what was behind them, and noticed Grays and Purples on the floor, dead what looked like a mass cult suicide. 

_ Was this what Michael was protecting you from? And where was Venable? _

“Why, my dear, think of us as your sisters!” the third woman answers, skin fair and old with a head full of flaming red hair. “And we’re here to take you home, where you belong!”

Michael takes a step forward in front of you, protecting you from their stares. “And what the hell do you want with her?” he fixes his gaze on the middle woman. “Miss Supreme.”

The woman named Cordelia gulps but steps forward as well. “You don’t deserve to know, Michael. Not after the pain and suffering you’ve brought not only to my coven but to the  _ fucking _ planet.”

“Cordelia, she has to remember. Let me do it,” the girl named Madison persists, and you notice she’s clutching something in her fist. 

“I have to remember what?” you ask, stepping out of Michael’s stance and holding your own.

Cordelia nods over to Madison, and the girl vanishes into thin air.

You feel someone tap your shoulder, and you turn around to see the young blonde somehow standing before you.

As Madison extends her hand out, Michael screams “NO” and tries to stand before you once more. 

But it was too late, for Madison already started to blow white powder into your face. 

Michael got in front of you and inhaled the dust as much as you did. 

You both fall to the floor, bodies convulsing in the spot and gasping for air.

There was pain and then there was not. It started to vanish as your body began to drop in temperature and you felt frozen still. 

You couldn’t look at Michael to see if the same was happening to him. 

The only thing you could do was feel your brain on fire.

And that’s when you started to remember everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! If you got the Dracula references from the quote and other parts of the chapter, kudos to you! I really took inspiration from it for this part, and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! <3 Please comment below and let you know what you think so far, I love feedback!  
> Also follow me if you want on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She was sensual and ghostly. Everything about her was insistent and powerful. There was blood in her hands.”  
> — Zinaida Nikolaevna Gippius, Little Demon

_ When you think about Boy Wonder, you think about orange trees and cinnamon. Raw power made of evil.  _

_ Drips of venom fallen on golden hair. Hints of red seep through his locks like blood.  _

_ But he was more than that, you remember it all.  _

_ When you first touched him, the first  _ real  _ touch, you only saw a boy.  _

_ Coddled, frightened, and unaware of the choices he could make for himself. _

_ Choices that others made for him. _

_ You’ve had nightmares before, of betraying him, leaving his side to join the others. _

_ And the world was still covered in black and despair.  _

_ You loved your sisters, but you couldn’t do that to him. _

_ You must stay with Boy Wonder. _

 

 

* * *

 

As air fill your lungs once more, you sit upon the wooden floor, gasping for any signs of oxygen. You look around, look at your sisters, and you recognize them all. 

Madison, the witch bitch.

Myrtle, your iconic fireball.

And Cordelia, your supreme.

But laid beside you was your love, your Boy Wonder.

_ Michael. _

As you recall the memories of him, every touch, every scent, and every word he has ever spoken to you, he starts to rise up from his short slumber.

Michael rolls to his side and looks up at you like you were the last star in the sky.

Tears start to drip down your cheek as you grin like a fucking idiot. 

“Michael,” you sob, remembering it all.

His face beams with light, around all of this darkness, and tears start to form in his eyes as well.

“Baby,” he chokes out, his bottom lip quivering. 

You throw your body, exhausted from this mind travel, and you fall into his embrace. 

Tears fall onto his shoulder as he endlessly strokes your sweat-covered hair. 

“I thought I lost you,” Michael whispers into your ear, each stroke against your hair making your breathing more controlled, knowing that you were finally together. “You were gone, and I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want any pain, I’m so-”

“It’s okay, Michael,” you purr into his neck, wrapping your arms around his warm body. “You still have me.”

You wanted to stay there for hours, cheeks stained red in the arms of the man who you loved. And you knew he felt the same way. The time you had to make up was crucial, but your supreme had other plans.

“Madison, you fool!” Cordelia shouts, as you see her hand connect with Madison’s face as soon as she made her way back to her.

Madison rubs her face, looking pissed off as ever. “He jumped in front of her too late, what was I  _ supposed  _ to do?”

Cordelia brushes her off and makes deadly eye contact with Michael as you both start to stand up. “I was a fool to believe that you would keep such a promise.”

“And you were too weak to protect them, so can’t blame this all on him,” Michael lets go of your waist to raise both of his arms over his head. “I was born to do this.”

_ What else did you do, Michael? _

You looked around, and realize why there were only three of your sisters left.

“You killed them, my sisters,” you try to whisper only to him, but Myrtle seemed to hear you as well.

“Of course he did, my dear. He came only a little after he tried to take you from us after we took your body to hide you off, and he killed them all. Piles of ashes, just like the rest of the world. Pathetic pompous ass.” Myrtle hisses, taking a couple of steps towards you both to spit on Michael’s shoes.

_ Eve, my sisters, gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye. _

You take a step towards your sisters, away from Michael so you couldn’t look at him. 

Being in front of him, you could feel that he was very distraught, his mind saddened and angry seeing you walking away from him, walking towards his enemies. 

Before you could grab Cordelia’s hand, reached out to you, you hear Michael yell, “I can fix this!”

You turn around to face him, new tears taking form in your eyes. Michael shakes his head, only looking at you. “Please, if you join me, I can make this all go away. Bring back the world.”

_ Could he really? Can he really undo anything? _

_ Maybe he needs some help… _

“And why would we believe anything you say, huh?” Madison spits, crossing her arms, and Cordelia nods in approval. 

“You lied to me first. Why is this any different?” your supreme questions, now standing side by side with you.

“Because I remember her,” Michael confesses, cerulean eyes daring right at you, and your heart thumps in your throat. “And I want to change for her sake, her pain is enough for me to change,”

_ He wants to change, he wants to change for me. _

You saw in his mind his awful memories of being unloved and betrayed, and he saw yours of being rejected and neglected. Puzzle pieces fitting together once more. 

Michael wanted to change, your plan was working, and the world would return as it once was.

And you knew you loved him from that moment on.

Before you could rush over to his side, you embrace him once more, Cordelia grabs you by the arm. Her stare alone could tear the soul out of your body if you didn’t sell it already to the Devil himself.

“By morning, I’ll make up my mind. But if he lies again, I will not hesitate to make you watch as he bleeds,” your Supreme hisses, releasing you from her grip. 

She looks at the remaining witches as you rub your wrist. “Sisters, let’s find a room to stay in for tonight and discuss what’s to come next.”

As the three of them head up the stairs, passing Michael, Cordelia looks back at you, shaking her head.

“You may be the next Supreme, but I’m not dead yet,” she growls, turning back and joining the sisters into a dark corridor. 

You keep your stare on Cordelia, anger making your blood boil, not noticing Michael approaching you. 

He gently grabs your clenched hand by your side, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. His mouth feels warm and safe on your skin, and you relax from it.

“Let’s go to bed,” Michael purrs, sapphire eyes scorching yours.

 

The two of you pass Meade, standing in the mouth of the hallway, only nodding to Michael before you both kept walking down the dark corridor. Her robotic movements made you curious about her own motives.

_ Does she even know what’s going on? _

Michael’s room was brighter than your room, light with fresh tan candles and large yellow flames. They were spread across in the space, casting shadows which highlighted Michael’s cheekbones. 

You couldn’t stare at him for too long, still trying to wrap your head around what he did to your sisters. Looking at the bed, you notice the cabinet next to it and what settled on the counter.

_ A knife. _

You forget he could still read your mind, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around you.

“Baby,” Michael whispers, “I had no other choice. I wanted to revenge for what Cordelia did to my people.”

“I know,” you twist your body to look up at him, blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “You’re going to fix this, right?”

Michael lifts his hand, soft fingertips caressing your cheekbones. You look at him and how much he’s changed. 

Long golden hair, red eyeshadow, even his voice seemed more sinister and deep.

But some things stayed the same.

Ocean eyes, sharp cheekbones, cherry lips, and his all-black look.

He was still your Michael.

“For you, I’d fix anything,” he confesses, fingertips tracing down your jawline, and to your neck. 

There were no windows, but you knew what was outside.

“You know,” you purr, leaning into his ear, “It’s a blood moon tonight.”

You feel his Adam’s apple lift up as he chuckles. “Is that so?”

Before you knew it, Michael grabs you by the hips with both hands and throws you on his bed. Just as you hit the soft silk sheets, he pounces on top of you, a lion hovering over his meal. 

Michael lowers his head down, his hot breath settling in between your covered breasts. 

“Then I promise I won’t be gentle,” he growls, setting off fireworks in your stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to take off his clothes, and it doesn’t take long for him to rip yours off. Shredded layers of black and gray cover the wooden floor as you both mold into each other.

No time for games, no time for teasing. 

You needed him, and he needed you.

As Michael pushes himself inside you, thrusting every inch he got, you moan loudly, hoping your sisters could hear. You wanted them to know how good he could make you feel, how he has changed. 

And how you were going to help him.

Pleasure keeps rising inside of you, knowing a release would come soon, but you needed the right position.

You tighten your legs, already wrapped around Michael’s waist, and twist around to get on top. Feeling him much deeper this way, you scream his name as you could feel yourself clench around him. 

“Michael!” you yell again, and you start to unravel around Michael, thrusting harder to let himself go soon after. 

As your orgasm starts to wash over, you place your hand around his throat, squeezing it to gain balance. 

You’ve dreamt about doing this before, but you never expected to go through it.

But you had to, you had to save him.

_ Now or never. _

You clench around him one more time as he howls out your name.

Eyes closed, he comes inside of you, his shaking body making you lose your balance. 

As soon as it ends, Michael whispers, “I love you, darling,” right as you reach for the knife. His eyelashes flutter trying to keep open so he couldn’t see what you were doing.

Tears start to fall once more, as you grab the knife and adjust your position on top of him.

_ And you thought he was going to break your heart. _

“I love you,” you cry out before you stab Michael in the chest.

His eyes shot open, bewildered about what you just did as blood started to pour out of him. You take the knife out from his heart and stab him again, tears making their way onto his glistening red body. 

You repeat your motions, stabbing the one you loved repeatedly as he choked on his own blood.

You wondered why he didn’t stop you or put up a fight.

_ He has to know why. _

With each stab, you felt your bond weaken, losing your connection with him. You reach out with your mind one more time and say,  _ I’m sorry, I had no other choice. _

And his faint voice responded  _ I know. _

His cum was still inside you while his blood muddled in your hands. 

With one last kiss, you take his last breath.

Once you made sure he was dead, you jumped off of him and grabbed both of his limped arms. You dragged his body to the floor, sprawling out his lifeless form, and bile started to rise in your throat. You never wanted to see him like this before.

_ This better work. _

Standing above him, you channel in your magic, powers you haven’t used in a long time. You had to kill him in over to save him, and he knew that.

You hover your hands right above his feet, and you could feel it. 

The bad blood, his darkness, his black magic inside of him. 

And you were going to get it out.

No lame witch spell was going to help you in this situation, this was all on you and what you are.

Your fingertips start to buzz with power, feeling the weight of his dark tar. As you start to lift your hands slowly up his body, the bad blood starts to follow. 

It keeps getting heavier as you make your way across his abdomen, but you were stronger than this. 

Pain starts to shoot up your spine and you hover your hands pass his shoulders, and you can see his chest lift up from the source of his powers leaving his body.

_ Almost there. _

A blood-curdling scream leaves you as you make once less drag of his darkness above his mouth, and you lift your hands over your head before collapsing on the ground.

You look at the man you love, and black liquid swims on the floor beside him, leaving traces on his face in their wake. 

_ You did it. _

Michael’s eyes flutter open, and he turns to look at you. And he smiles at you like he never has before.

_ He’s good. This is what he wanted. Wanted for himself, wanted for me. _

Just as you both crawled on the floor towards each other, the dark liquid in between you two began to bumble, heating rising from its center.

You look at each other, confused as ever, and then you hear his wicked laugh.

_ You foolish child, you think you can turn him? _

Michael’s father’s voice echoed throughout the room, surrounding us in a daze. 

_ I cannot be betrayed, I cannot be beaten. _

The black blood starts to split into two puddles, separating from each other. And before the both of you could react to it, the two pools slam into you and Michael, making you both flying to opposite sides of the room.

You look up from your sticky mess and see the liquid force its way back into Michael’s mouth.

“NO!” you scream before the liquid flows pass your lips.

_ I told you, girl. If I call on you girl, you answer to me. _

The black blood burned your throat and felt like your insides were turning upside down. The pain was unbearable under the Devil’s laughter, and your screams were lost in the thick, dark liquid.

_ But you know, you’ve been so good to me. I guess I’ll bestow my little gift on you after all. _

His cringy laughter echoed once more throughout the dark space, and it seemed like it was never going to end.

As the last of the liquid entered your mouth, you fell on the floor.

Exhausted and ready to give it all up, you look over to Michael. 

Seeing his body shaking and eyes burning red, you wanted to crawl over to him, make both of your pains go away.

_ I’m sorry, he was always going to win.  _

And he was right because if your mother couldn’t defeat him, nobody could.

And you knew you’d be by his side in the end.

_ You’re my God now. I love you. _

His thoughts vanished as more pain came shooting from your scars which laid in between your shoulder blades. If felt like your father was ripping out your wings again, and you howled in the unbearable agony. 

You arch your back, holding yourself from the floor with both hands, letting the torment take its course. 

As soon as it began, black, glorious wings started to shoot up from your scars. As the roots kept on sprouting from your body, you get a rush of a sinister feeling inside you, that this pain was what you needed, that it felt  _ good _ .

You’d thank the Devil later for it.

You turn to Michael once more, smiling with black eyes. He gave you the same look back.

The only phoenix who would rise from the ashes would be a fallen angel, ready to keep the world in the dust with your king by your side.

Eliminate everything and everyone who crossed your paths. Even the ones who called you a sister.

Flapping your jet black wings, you bestow the white-faced demon your loyalty and repeat his phrase.

_ Ave Satanas. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, I finally finished it! I hope you enjoyed this, it means a lot for those who still read this! Thank you so much, I appreciate you all! (:

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I apologize for my shitty writing, I stayed up until 1 am writing this lol. Will post later chapters soon.  
> Also, the spell the reader speaks on the white face demon in her dream translates to "Blessed by the power of heaven above, go to your hell!" in Latin if you were wondering. xoxo  
> follow me on twitter @cettereine and tumblr @unepatronne (-:


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